


Brief Encounter

by Max72



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Falling In Love, Insecure Phil, M/M, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-05 21:58:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1833697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Max72/pseuds/Max72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - Phil couldn't understand why anyone would want to sit next to him on a near empty train when there were plenty of seats available, especially a very good looking man obviously out of his league in the handsome stakes! He may have had an internal panic attack when the same guy sits next to him the next morning too!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Week One - Monday 6.15am

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first AU. It was supposed to be a short sweet fic, but then I started writing it and it became a long angst filled one. 
> 
> It is finished so I intend to post everyday.
> 
> Many thanks to my Beta Veriscence who had to put up with a huge amount of moaning on my behalf!

**A Brief Encounter (but not of the third kind!)**

 

Week One - Monday 6.15am.

Phil Coulson sits down like he does every weekday morning and more than a few weekends as well than is strictly healthy for him. He has a forty minute trip into work when everything is running to schedule on the line, he gets on at one of the early stops so getting a seat is not a problem. He sits in the same seat every day, he doesn't know why, it's just part of who he is, he likes precision and continuity, he places his brief case between his legs, gripping it with his toes. If you looked inside it was orderly and contains more or less the same day in day out, different papers of course, everyday brought new clauses and contacts for him to peruse.

His lunch which unerringly contains a cheese sandwich, an apple and a granola bar, is packed neatly in a plastic Tupperware box that is just the right size to fit into the leather briefcase. Phil likes to think it was merely a lack of imagination and time pressure in changing his grocery order rather than an obsessiveness which means it never differs in content but he can't really be sure.

To be truthful, he's not really sure about himself most of the time, it usually runs along the lines of being just slightly disappointed in what he has become. His life hasn't exactly been action packed, he is about as safe and insular as a person can get, people, frankly, scare him. He isn't socially inept, he gets on fine with his work colleagues, he has friends, even if he rarely sees them, he just has a tendency to run a mile in panic when anyone gets too close. After all why would someone be interested in someone so boring as him?

...

_Clint waits patiently._

_It was going to be his first morning travelling on the train, he had moved into his new apartment over the weekend and now, he had it on good authority, namely a nosy neighbour that nipped over to welcome him to the area, on his moving day when the last thing he wanted was to be stopping and making coffee, but there always seemed to be one busy body that found it necessary. Nevertheless, the said neighbour had given Clint details for the train service and assured him it was better than taking the bus._

...

Phil reads the daily paper on the way to work every morning, he gets on the train at the same time even at the weekend, he tries to get on the same one home but more often than not he gets delayed by work and it's not that unusual for him to get in and go straight to bed with a piece of toast! He lives on his own, of course he does.

He has no one to tell him it's not a good way to live his life.

This morning is no different, the time, seat, lunch, suit, paper and brief case are all identical. He starts on the front page, he works through the paper one page at a time, front to back. He likes this part of his journey, the car is almost empty, no one opposite him staring him down, the seats either side empty. In general he isn't keen on the train, too many people, and they are sure to be looking at him, Mr. Bland in his three piece suit trying to pretend he is something he's not, watching him, as all his weaknesses ooze out of the stitching.

...

_Clint has to say as the train pulls into the station it's a good start as it's right on time and not too crowded, which he hates! It's early of course but it will be his regular time from now on, he had managed to pick up work from a influential business woman in the city about a year ago who in turn had recommended Clint to a number of really good regular customers, all of which had a fairly close proximity to each other making Clint's work easier and meaning he could fit in more sessions throughout the day. So if Miss Potts needed an early workout everyday at her offices in the centre of the financial district then that's what she would get, it's no skin off Clint's nose._

_It's a warm spring morning, and Clint steps onto the train for the first time in a black t-shirt and matching cargo pants, he will pick up his equipment and gym clothes from their base of operations while he is going over his and his business partners schedule for the week. All he has with him right now is his bow, along with it's case, he has a competition later in the week. He is going to leave it at Nat's which doubles for their office, she complains but in all honesty it is the only way she can afford to be in the centre of the city. She loves the pace of city life whereas Clint after years of noise is now craving a little quiet in his, he had told her, he was growing up, she replied he was growing old. Either way Clint thinks he might just enjoy his new peace. After all it isn't difficult to step back into the hustle and bustle anytime with the train less than a five minute walk away from his place, add to that he can now afford somewhere bigger than a shoe box and it's a win win, because seriously, leaving his little bow at the office is going to compromise Nat's space enough for her to no doubt gripe about him leaving all his shit there, even if it's their official business head quarters._

...

The emptiness lasts for approximately two stops before a guy sits next to him, Phil looks suspiciously round the car, there are plenty of free seats and this guy, casually dressed in black finds it necessary to sit right next to him, when he could clearly sit on his own with a empty seat either side of him (why wouldn't you do that if there was a choice?)

...

_Clint looks round the car there is an abundance of free seats._

...

The man that has settled next to him has large flattish case with him that looks worryingly like rifle case, and by the look of his muscled arms he could be army or ex army, or maybe just a gym instructor (that sounds safer), Phil tells himself nervously trying to calm his irrational self. He flaps his paper out and sighs to himself; to himself of course because it was important not to show any outward signs of tension, in the face of the enemy, Captain America comic book wisdom! Phil can't help the little half grin that appears on his face just thinking about it, if it's achingly similar to Steve Roger's smile nobody would make the connection and Phil has long tried to forget the hours he spent perfecting it in the mirror as a kid. A kid with no friends, desperately trying to find something cool about himself only to steal somebody else's in an attempt to fit into a harsh world. He's been told many a time as an adult that it just comes across as sarcastic which isn't fair because Cap's smile was sweet and cute, and that's what Phil was going for, so he's fucked that up too, but it's apart of him now, another flaw he has to live with, he tries not to look too closely in the mirror these days anyway.

...

_A guy in a grey three piece suit catches Clint's eye. He can't explain it, but he is drawn to the seat next to him, honestly it isn't that the guy looks am-az-ing in the suit._

...

It isn't long before the car is filling up anyway and oddly this morning that makes Phil feel slightly relieved, the guy next to him has done nothing to warrant Phil's mistrust, apart from glance a time or two at the back page of his paper, but Coulson's wariness pretty much spreads to the whole universe, so the guy could probably twitch a finger and Coulson would imagine he could break someone's neck with it.

...

_Nat keeps telling him needs to start being more proactive in finding someone, that they are unlikely just to fall in his lap without effort. So sitting next to guy on a train that he finds attractive is one step up from waiting for fate, he feels proud of himself, even if the guy is pretty much obscured from view throughout the journey by a newspaper, still, Clint does manage to take a peek at the weekend sports scores on the back, all of which he missed over his busy weekend._

...

The train arrives on time and Coulson waits patiently for everyone to depart, it's a toss up for Phil whether to jump up and get out first or wait it out till the end, which ultimately wins because he doesn't want to be crowded in by the throng of busy commuters, the guy next to him doesn't seem in much of a hurry either so perhaps Coulson should have gone for the dart up before the train has even stopped choice! Dark clothes eventually stands though and Coulson makes the mistake of taking a peek at him as he does, the guy looks back at him, a friendly enough grin filling his relaxed face before turning and exiting the car without a backward glance, or a returned smile from Phil. He grabs his brief case and is away to another day, relieved this bit is over.

...

_Clint picks up his bow case, he had hoped to follow the guy in the suit off so he could watch his ass, because yes he is that shallow, but he seems to be lingering in his seat, so Clint gives him the advantage of being able to watch his tight clad ass as he leaves instead, Monday morning treat for the guy, Clint smiles at him as he leaves, but resists, barely, from waggling his brows or bum as he departs._


	2. Week One - Tuesday 6.15am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint actually speaks to the mystery man on the train. not much but its a start!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remind me never to do stupid shit with italic again, it takes me an age to reformat!

Week One - Tuesday 6.15am

 

Coulson sits down today with a rather heavy sigh, he had gotten in way too late for anything decent to eat late last night and was too tired for much more than a hot drink, tea because he wanted to sleep. He had had a quick flip through a few news channels before switching off and falling into bed alone, as always. His morning routine included an extra coffee, so nobody can say he doesn't bend the rules occasionally.

The few people that Phil recognises as regulars look equally fed up, it is a cold and dank morning, nothing about it can cheer those around him. He slips his brief case between his legs and unfolds his morning paper.

...

_Clint stands in the station for the second time this week, yesterday had been a good start to his new life of commuting everyday. The train had been on time for both in and outward bound trips and as the train slowly comes to a stop it right on time again, that surely can't last!_

...

Two stops down and out of the corner of Phil's eye he sees Mister Gym Arms get on, who briefly looks round lazily before heading straight over and sitting next to Coulson, Phil can't quite stop his natural reaction and shifts over on his chair slightly away from the man. Who in turn, looks over at Coulson with a hesitant smile on his face. Phil ducks his head down pretending to be reading his paper, even as his knee pumps up and down nervously, and his hands grip the newspaper harder, crinkling the paper at the edges.

...

_Clint makes a bee line for best dressed man on the train again. Today, Clint notices that he is sporting a beautiful dark blue number. Clint is, best case scenario, a casual dresser, more like slovenly most days. His natural default setting is jeans and a tee, the guy next to him, who seriously smells as good and expensive as he looks, you can tell, was born in a suit, and you know what they say about opposites attracting! Man, but he can dream!_

_Clint can't help but notice that the guy fidgets away as he sits down, disappointing, but Clint had noted yesterday there is no wedding ring. He hopes, well nothing really, he just sits down next to the first attractive man available. Story of his life really._

...

It's another couple of stops before Phil dares to look up again, sending a brief glance over the whole car as it starts to fill with people before finishing up on the guy next to him, who has his head ducked down at an odd angle reading the back page of Phil's paper! Coulson flicks his wrists, straightening the paper out but it snaps louder than Phil or his neighbour obviously expects as the darkly clad snooper physically shoots up, straightens and sends a bit of a glare in the suited man's direction, not that Phil notices because he buries himself in the middle pages and pretends to be engrossed in the report while hiding the embarrassed grimace that adorns his face.

...

_Fuckerty, fuck fuck, Clint nearly jumps out of his skin, as the newspaper cracks, and bellows outwards, how fucking embarrassing. He looks round the car to see if anyone else had noticed him nearly leap out of his chair, and glowers at the kid over the aisle who is clearly smirking at him. He's well and truly caught, and he was only trying to see the fucking basketball scores._

...

It shouldn't worry him, it probably wouldn't worry most normal people, but Phil can't quite understand why this guy has sat down next to him for two days in a row. He can't help over thinking it. The guy, as Phil takes another glance, is good looking, late thirties maybe younger, and most certainly built! Well muscled arms, thighs filling out his cargo pants, (thighs wide and strong enough to climb up, an ass, tight enough to dig your heels into) hell, Phil reprimands himself, he's a grown man he shouldn't let his thought wander like a teenage but Phil seriously dreams about this type of guy. Knowing he is well above his league anyway in the looks department, if Phil is even in a league which, he's not, because it's probably a decade since he even had a date, more importantly it's more than a decade since any male had taken more than a sideways look at him. There had been a couple of women who had shown a passing interest till he had tactfully let slip that he was not inclined that way, only for them to think if he is gay he therefore has bosom buddy potential. Which is strange but makes Phil think he is nothing more than a safe comfort friend, like mash potato or cookies and milk. The trouble is Phil isn't really very good at friendship either, he is good with emailing or writing letters but talking? Let's face it he considers not answering the phone when he does know who is ringing! So talking, no so much. He is good for a few weeks then he starts to crave his own company again.

The rest of the journey goes without incident, thankfully, and Phil feels a little more confident that he is over reacting even as he races off the train.

...

_It's Clint's turn to watch ass today, he just kind of wishes the guy would slow down a little._

...

Tuesday evening 8.15pm

 

It's later than Coulson planned, again, it seems to be getting to be a regular thing, Phil enjoys his job he really does, his boss knows that too though, he wonders if sometime they take advantage of his enthusiasm, probably not they more than likely don't even notice him. He should also acknowledge that he isn't good at delegating. But what is a man that is woefully under confident in everything supposed to do when he finds something he is actually good at and he is almost heady at times at how much he appears to be needed within the firm.

The train is usually pretty empty at this time of night going the way he needs to get home, going the other way it tends to be packed with people making their way into the pulsating city, so he is terribly thankful to be going home. It makes him pretty confident that his seat will be free, if not he isn't going to have a break down, it's only a seat after all, but when he steps onto the train, brief case in hand, he finds the train almost empty, a couple kissing to one end, he looks away quickly, a middle aged elegant lady surrounded by expensive shopping bags flicking through what looks like a full diary, a family of three, dad and two young teenage children (probably twins by the look of them). Phil's seat is free which should be good but right next to it, seating in his now usual spot is Mister Arms and Cargo Pants. He is busy texting on his phone, fingers looking impossibly large for the speed he is going, plugged into the phone is a wire leading up to earphones which are tucked into his ears.

...

_Cool, Clint thinks as he sees Suit Man out the corner of his eye as he gets on the train, looking tired, but still perfectly turned out. He can't help wondering if he would even loosen his tie to have sex! He concentrates back on his text message to stop his mind and eyes from wandering._

...

Coulson takes another glance around the car, there are plenty of seats available, he really doesn't want to encourage the guy by sitting next to him but he is kind of drawn to it, his seat obviously not the guy! The music will probably irritate Phil's ears with its' tinny beat but it is his goddamn chair, well not really, but... and the fact that the guy is otherwise occupied might make him breathe easier, so he sits in his own territory, you can't chase Phil Coulson off his own patch!

...

_Result!!! He has sat next to him. Snoopy dance and Clint's dick even sends him a twitch for heavens sake._

...

The problem for Phil with evening travel is that he doesn't have a paper to hide behind, so he is never quite sure what to do with his hands. It's not usually that much of a problem, but for some reason today, sitting next to this stranger he doesn't want to sit with nothing to do, so he reaches into his case and grabs a wad of work papers, thinking he can get a head start and read them through.

The man next to him obviously senses movement beside him and looks up. He pulls an earplug out of one of his ears, and says, "Does this bother you?"

Phil looks up himself, his eyes dart about and he says less than intelligently, unsure that the man is even talking to him, despite the friendly smile he sends Coulson way, "huh?"

The man next to him holds up his phone and replies, "does it bother you working, I know they can be irritating when you are sitting next to them, I'll turn it off if it does."

"Uh no," Phil says nervously, "it's fine." Phil is more than happy that the guy is plugged into his own world.

"Okay! Good! Just let me know if it does," and he sends Phil one of those broad smiles again, before continuing affably, "I'm trying to learn Russian," and Phil can faintly hear the foreign language coming out of the tiny ear piece in his hand, "my best friend is Russian," he finishes as if that's the answer to all the questions in the world.

Phil nods his head, and tugs his lips up slightly, more because that's what you're supposed to do and he doesn't want to come across as grumpy, but as the guy carries on looking Phil retreats back into his paperwork, cursing his own ineptness at communication! He has to stop himself from sighing in relief as the guy puts his ear piece back in.

...

_Nat's going to be proud of him for making first contact, he will add it to the end of the text, 'I spoke to this hot guy on the train', the text is a blow by blow account of his archery competition this evening, he had won, which is great, because actually this evening is turning out to be pretty damn fantastic. Okay, the guy next to him didn't exactly open up, but Clint has seen the little glances, and he is pretty sure he has checked him out a couple of times. But the way the guy drops his eyes nervously, Clint has seen that before as well he is either, painfully shy or has been seriously hurt in the past, or both, and that sets off all of Clint's feels, because he REALLY knows all about that. Nat will tell him to back off, two vulnerable people together is not a good idea but Clint is confident that he has got his shit together. He has for years now. And yes, he really doesn't know this guy and he might be reading way too much into a pair of sad puppy dog eyes but he feels a connection and it tugging!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those that read , left kudos and comments yesterday, it's much appreciated!


	3. Week One - Wednesday 6.15am.

**Week One - Wednesday 6.15am.**

 

Phil arrives early to the station, for some reason he had been up fifteen minutes early and had therefore been running ahead of schedule ever since, so much so that Phil buys himself a coffee and sits down to wait for his train on the platform.

...

_It isn't a good morning! Clint awakes to a slight hissing noise coming from somewhere in his ground floor flat, he walks bare foot through the rooms trying to narrow down where the noise is coming from. It seems the kitchen is the likely contender as he rushes through. The second sign of a problem is when the electricity went out as he walks through the living room, the third sign was the wet cold feeling that hits his feet as he wades onto a very wet kitchen floor._

_"Oh shit, shit, shit, shit," Clint mutters out loud as he pretty much paddles through the small kitchenette. He racks his brain to think where he had seen the valve to shut the water off. He knows it's at the back of one of the cupboards and he moves noisily round them slamming them shut with annoyance until he found what he's looking for. He has to get down on his knees to reach back and stop the flow of water, soaking his pants as he does, fuck. The noise and the water thankfully comes to an abrupt halt, and Clint straightens and surveys his surroundings. This is just what he needs! He runs to the bathroom and grabs as many towels as he can, the quicker he can get the water up the less damage it would cause._

_Next job should be to call a plumber but he can't do that at six in the morning. What he can do was to send Natasha a text and get her to sort out his clients for the morning, no way was he going to make any of his appointments._

...

Phil immediately notices that his usual seat neighbour doesn't get on at his normal stop. He should be pleased, he isn't at all sure he was enjoying the idea, and it was only an idea, a silly idea! That someone was paying him a little attention, because obviously that isn't really likely to happen, and it's all probably a coincidence that he had sat next to him for the last couple of mornings.

After yesterday, Phil won't be surprised if he had sat there just to read the sports page of his morning paper! Chances are anyway that he won't ever turn up again and yes that catches a little with him because even through the years of not getting anywhere with relationships and then the years of not trying to get anywhere because it hurts less, there is still a little part of Phil's heart that won't give up, nonsensical as it is.

But he has to be realistic these days and the chances are against him, in all likelihood he will end up alone into old age, which is terrifying, but he is unlikely to find someone patient enough at his time of life to put up with the baggage that Phil brings along. It's not even baggage of experience, the problem is a lifetime of the inexperienced kind, the embarrassingly little participation that Phil has had of a sexual nature, he is a nearly fifty year old man and has run a mile in fright from most of the personal encounters he has managed to swindle over the years, only to get scared and back out once again.

God he is a mess, a pathetic weak man, he really has been since his first couple of sexual encounters, back when he was a youth, those rendezvous have scarred his whole adult life, and what's more is that Phil has let it, he thinks he is feeble and woeful, he really is. It's probably best that he is on his own.

Phil's mind wanders, his early school career had been good, Phil was intelligent, he showed skills beyond his age, he was also an all rounder, maths, English, science, he had aptitude in all, add to that fact he was good at sports, mostly athletics and he was a popular guy. Then his parents had decided when he was thirteen to move, he was forced to leave the school he loved and settle somewhere else. But he never did, he had hated his new school, and he had never fitted in.

Then he had gotten ill. Only a year after starting, he'd caught glandular fever, but he had complications, his spleen ruptured and he had serious internal bleeding, he doesn't bounce back, he had prolonged fatigue, which put pay to any sporting career Phil had hoped for. He had months off unable to return to school. He had studied from home of course but when he eventually got back to school he found it even harder to fit in, especially with a bunch of kids that couldn't understand a kid that tired easily and apparently got off from doing the dreaded sports that none of them wants to do, it was always ironic to Phil because he desperately wanted to participate.

To round it all off, he became a laughing stock when it transpired that glandular fever was also known as the kissing disease, he was the butt of every kissing joke going and he hated his life and he hated his school!

He worked hard, not on his school work but to fit in, and he did, sort of, but not with the best crowd, he was still the low of low, in the group he did nothing but sit on the fringes, and Phil often wondered if he was there to take the rap for things the cooler kids did or simply to steal his homework for their own, but it was acceptance and it was more than he had had in the past two years.

All the time this had been going on he was battling, fighting with the fact that all his so called mates were lusting after the best looking girls and Phil was really not! He never said anything out loud even to himself, he'd laughed along with them when someone said something salacious about the busty blonde in the year above that had her tongue stuck down her boyfriends throat, all the while thinking more about the boyfriend than the girl.

It came out of course, he was sixteen. The gang he hung with were all busy trying to get into girls pants and he wasn't, someone noticed where Phil's eyes lingered because he was still a lusty teenage after all, just as much as his so called mates, he was just looking in a different place. They started to joke about it, Phil denied it, of course, it was the seventies, you didn't come out in high school in the seventies, well you certainly didn't do it in his school. Especially when you were so far down the chain of coolness!

It was odd though, as rumours started to circulate about his sexuality, even when he hadn't admitted anything, he started to get attention from other boys, many more than he would have imagined. None of them out in the open of course, most of them older, and that was when Phil started to feel pressured. His little group egged him on, pushing him when he didn't want to be pushed, but he wasn't strong, he hadn't been for years now. So he found himself behind a building at school an older more popular boy had his hands down Phil's pants, and Coulson wasn't sure how or why he was here, or what he even needed to do. It felt wrong and he reciprocated because he feared what would happen if he didn't. It was quick, a small mercy at least, the boy rubbed frantically up against Phil, he had already let go of Phil's dick, intent on getting himself off. When he came, he left, menacingly saying, "Yeah Coulson, don't fucking tell anyone or I'll kill you!" It's at about that time that Phil thought his life couldn't fall much more into the gutter, but he was wrong of course.

Phil's education was less than stellar by then, teachers looked at him with disappointment when he didn't hand in his homework, some took him aside and to try and coax out what was going on, they skirted round asking if he was having trouble at home. He wanted to scream the only trouble he had at home was his mum gently asking why he didn't want any of his friends over! He doesn't have friends, he only had kids that found it big and amusing to make him into a figure of fun. He wanted to shout he did plenty of homework but none of it ended up with his name on it. But instead he sat in sullen silence because it was all too late, there was nothing that could be done for him, his only hope was to survive what little time he had left at school.

He did. Just about. And went on to be what they term a late learner passing ever exam place in front of him and avoiding people and friendships for a long time.

Phil pulls himself back to the present, he needs to avoid thinking about it as much as possible because he has a tendency to go back to the past too much, blaming it for all his troubles, it's not though, he should have tried harder, he should have done lots of things with his life but he hasn't.

It's only a couple of stops before the train pulls into the station and Phil's only managed to read the front page! He is feeling as miserable as sin now and he surmises, that today is going to be a hard long slog.

...

_Clint is waiting not so patiently for the 11.15, in his hand is an overnight bag, no way is he going back without running water tonight._

_Finding a plumber had proven far more difficult than Clint had ever imagined at six o'clock in the morning. The best he could do was to talk to his nosy neighbour, who as it turns out was actually a mind of damn useful information, she had called her son, who happened to be a builder with contacts and had found him someone reliable but he couldn't make it till the next day, god bless her, the neighbour had taken his keys and promised to oversee the whole thing so he didn't have to miss another day of work. Clint was pretty confident about her and let's face it, he had fuck-all worth stealing! The only truly interesting thing in the place is his high class range of sex toys in his bedside cabinet, and she was free to have a squint at those!_

_Another poor-me call to Nat had secured him a bed for the night and the bonus was she had promised to come back with him tomorrow to help with any cleaning up and to have a look round his new place._

_Natasha's singularly the most important person in Clint's Life, he is well aware of how far he has progressed in the last few years, something as simple as a burst pipe before would have had him flying off the handle, sure he is still pissed right now, it's happened a little to soon for comfort to feel entirely confident about his new and big acquisition, but he is calm if a little worried. That is purely down to Nat, he has no doubt, because no matter what reasons or things that had triggered them, Clint had had serious anger management issues, he had been out of control when they had first met. Natasha had taught him to channel that, focus it in a good way, he had got physically fitter than he had ever been before, gone to college, started up the business, things that had made Clint feel good about himself, given him the confidence needed that he could now see he was no longer a natural target for predictors and he would forever be grateful for his best friend for it._

_Nevertheless sitting on the train as he makes his way in, hideously late, Clint feels a little sulky for a different reason, he has missed out on Mr. Suits you Sir, this morning and will now miss out on those mighty fine legs again tomorrow morning! Just when he is getting a little closer, quite literally, Clint hopes, to charming the pants off him. Never let it be said that Clint is anything but a cocky little bugger at heart!_


	4. Week One - Thursday 7.15pm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha gets to see Clint's train man.

Week One - Thursday 7.15pm 

 

The seat stalker had been missing again this morning, so it looked like he had been a two day wonder, Phil finds himself a little disappointed and a tiny bit relieved but he had invented little witty conversations in his mind to have with his stranger, even though Phil knows he would never have said any of them out loud, after all when given the chance the other night to talk, Phil had only managed to mumble something idiotic and acted like a fucking virgin, trying to ignore the guy like a shy school girl. He tried not to swear too much even in his own head so it must have been bad, besides even if he had managed intelligence when speaking he would never have come across as charming and suave as he did in his own imagination.

It's a reasonably early time for him to finish work today and he has managed to arrive at the station in time to catch the 7.15 home and even pick his usual chair.

...

_It is later than Clint intends to return to his apartment with Nat in tow, but she had decided they should make a bit of an afternoon of his stay when they both realised they had early finishes to their work days._

_It was about then that Clint also realised that in the overnight bag he had packed yesterday he had remembered everything, even something to sleep in, (Tasha was beyond finding Clint walking around her place starkers amusing! ) except a change of clothes, and no way was she heading out to a movie and a nice meal after with him in yesterday's cargo pants and tee-shirt, especially after being left in a heap on the floor overnight._

_It wasn't a bust though because having Nat's place as their business base she had succumbed to his insistence that he needed to keep a few bits in her wardrobe, one of which included a suit that he told her was for meeting new clients, even though most of the time to be honest that happened in his gym stuff. So he had dressed up in his suit, originally the reason that he hadn't of course told Nat was that he actually did not have a wardrobe, he just had drawers, after all he didn't have anything worthy of a hanger! Apart from the suit, which was a touch over the top for the movies, everything went perfectly well for the meal afterwards._

_In between the movie and the meal, his neighbour had called and told him that the plumbing was all sorted! He thanked her profusely, and made a note to get her a bunch of flowers or something._

_The meal has been delightful, they seldom had the time these days, especially with Clint's move out of the city and all the work that had entailed, to just relax, and talk, they try to avoid job related tales, but they tend to creep in here and there. Natasha's list of clients was even longer than his own but Clint needs time to run the books, he has a surprising talent for running the business, not that it should be surprising as he had gone to college for just that reason but he really had a head for it, and he was starting to think ahead and plan for their future because this business didn't really run on old bodies._

_Now sitting in this too posh restaurant for Clint's liking, Natasha chats about her latest conquests, Nat prefers the word fling, which Clint really didn't think sounds much classier but hey hoo. He is rather barren of late on that topic so he ends up telling her about his mystery train man and how he had to date completely ignored Clint. Nat tells him to have at it already! He prickles a little at her ribbing until she puts her hand over his and sweetly says, "you are a catch Clint Barton, you need to start seeing that, any guy should be falling over for your attention, don't even bother looking at the ones that don't!"_

_He immediately jumps to Mr. Suit's defence and replies, "I think he's kind of shy and insecure, Nat." She looks back hard and stares him down, the doubt in her voice only too clear, "Clint, I don't..."_

_"It's fine Nat, don't worry, I know what I'm doing."_

_She sighs heavily, "It just, I don't think that's the type of guy you need Clint. I don't want you to get hurt," she left the again out thankfully._

_He should be annoyed that she still saw him as the broken boy she had found, but he can't be, he knows that isn't true, she just wants the best for him. Clint smiles up at her, "Shit, Nat, he is just a good looking face on a train, it's not a Harlequin."_

_"True but I know you Clint, and I know what that face you are making means."_

_"Shy and quiet doesn't equate to mean and moody all the time you know."_

_"No, if you're interested it usually equates to broken."_

_"Hell Nat, no it doesn't!"_

_"Would you have been attracted to him otherwise?"_

_"Well you haven't seen the suits," Clint smiles suggestively. Trying to lighten the subject down._

_"Clint, don't take this the wrong way, well, you can if you want I don't care but ever since you got your shit together you have been looking for wounded birds. You can't save them all, babe."_

_"Sometimes they just need a helping hand to get them back on the wing," he smiles at his own words, "and I know you understand that." He didn't need to remind her it's exactly what she had done for him._

_"Just be careful, because those wounded birds," she smiles smugly at having the last birdy word, "They have a tendency to fly away as soon as they can!"_

_He grins back, because he loves this woman, "Can I just say again, guy on a train, with a good looking frame, I don't even know his name. I think we are over discussing this."_

_"Yeah, yeah, don't cry on my shoulder."_

_"As if I would. Are you done? If we leave now we can catch the 7.15."_

...

The train is just about to pull away when Phil notices the last couple of people jump on, a stunning red head laughing as she gets on followed by a man he can't see but can hear as he laughs, the woman is obscuring his view as she turns to whoever he is and says something in amusement, which gets a roar of laughter from her companion again as they make their way down the car. Phil turns away for a second as someones phone blares out an irritating ring tone. He turns back, because stealthy people-watching is what public transport is all about! The red head has turned to look at her companion and to Phil's surprise it's Mister Arms and Cargo Pants, only he's not in the usual black attire, he is in a striking grey suit. Phil's eyes linger a moment or two longer than they should, he is, of course, without question assessing the suit, not the man. The suit is good and fits rather well considering the amount of muscle (Phil may have noticed that on a previous occasion!) under the fabric, that's not easy to dress! Coulson knows about suits, he lives in a suit, he loves the way he feels in one, it's his only real financial extravagance. He feels like he is more than he is, wearing it, if that makes sense, out of one in casual clothes he feels less confident, it's silly, but what's the saying, 'the clothes maketh the man, and in Phil's case it really does help him.

...

_They only just make it, running the last few meters before the doors shut. As he follows his best friend onto the train his eyes immediately pick up his guy in the suit!_

...

Phil notices the woman with his seat neighbour leaning into her companion as he whispers something to her. She immediately turns round, her eyes searching round the car until her piercing gaze settles on Phil, who drops his eyes the moment hers make contact, no need for them to think he is looking at them.

...

_"Oh," Clint mutters under his breath, and Nat turns to him in question, "Suit man," he explains. She immediate swirls round to find him with her eyes, Clint can't help but wince, poor man, when he drops his gaze the moment her eyes fix on him, many a stronger mortal had fallen to the Romanov stare._

_"Nat," he hisses under his breath._

...

He didn't look up until there is no more movement and he is sure the pair have found their seats and obviously not next to him, thankfully. That is until he looks straight up into the penetrating eyes of the red head, as she sits directly across from him. She has the type of stare that you want to avoid and engage in challenge at the same time, but Phil isn't feeling brave enough to hold it, the last thing he wants is a angry, good looking woman having a go in the middle of an enclosed train, that's never going to come out well for him, a middle aged man on his own.

Coulson starts to wonder if this is some grand plan to fleece him and she is checking him out, but then if he is some kind of mark (he's pretty sure he's heard that term on a cop show) surely she wouldn't be glaring at him like he is a mass murderer. He notices the man next to her knock into her elbow gently and she turns, quirking her eyebrow up at him as he gives her a funny look until she smiles at him like butter wouldn't melt, and they start discussing the film they have obviously just been to see, not that Phil is eavesdropping or anything, they are just loud enough to be heard, that's all.

Phil feels terribly exposed, and weirdly nosy, which is kind of ridiculous, he wants his newspaper to hide behind but he gave it to the receptionist at his office like he does every morning. He is even paperwork free tonight and apart from his empty lunchbox, a few pens, a spare envelope (you never know when you will need one) and few paper clips in the little pouch on the inside, there is nothing of much use on the distraction side. So he pulls the case up onto his lap and grips it tightly at the corners. It won't work like Captain America's shield (and he really needs to stop thinking in comic strip form, because that's really nerdy for a man his age ) but it could come in handy in an emergency and at least his most vulnerable parts are safe!

The pair are intent on themselves though and Phil feels a bit of a fool as he spies on them. He has spectacularly read this guy wrong, wishful thinking, but these two are obviously an item, the woman sits pretty still actually but the guy in grey is full of little touches, the conversation full of hand gestures that often end with a arm grasp or a pat on the knee. The woman although attentive seems to catch Phil's eye way too much and he wonders if they have talked about him before they got on, probably laughed, as the usually black clad man told her how he had terrified a guy on the train by simply sitting next to him. The woman sighs and rolls her eyes at the muscled man as his fingers touch her hand again, and Phil swears the eye roll is aimed towards him but then paranoia has hit Phil hard now, perhaps they are secret agents and Phil has been singled out for his handkerchief folding skills! Or perhaps the red head is going to smother him with her thighs round his neck when the lights go out, Phil kind of hopes she passes over that duty to her partner! Muscles nods his head at her gesture though, a silent, "oh," on his lips, smiles gently and sits more quietly for a while before his hands start again, he obviously can't keep them still, it's something Coulson has noticed before, they start to wander again as he talks, seemingly connected to his words unconsciously.

...

_Clint watches as Natasha does some weird thing with her eyes, and indicates the guy over the way, and he knows immediately what she is trying to tell him, because he knows for the last five minutes he has babbled nervously, desperately trying to come up with amusing tales, and his hands unable to stay still have been far to grabby and intimate with the women next to him when he is in fact interested in the man opposite, but Nat isn't exactly helping by staring the guy out! Fuck even he would be intimidated by that, he feels all the more for the man, who is grasping his briefcase to his lap like it could save his life._

...

It can't come to soon as far as Phil is concerned but they start to make a move to get off the train as it slows down, still laughing and joking with each other but as the woman stands she leans in closer to Phil and says, "nice suit," with a smile on her face, "D & G?"

Coulson stares a little wide eyed and nods his head, nervously swallowing as her partner replies cheekily, "Got to say I prefer the dark blue one," as they quickly move down the train away from him, and Phil can hear her as she says, "You always did prefer that spectrum of colour." They only just manage to jump off before the doors shut again.

Phil is left feeling rather bewildered on so many fronts.

...

_"Nice," is all she says as they get off the train, and Clint smiles and links his arm in hers and leads her off towards his apartment._


	5. Week One - Friday 6.15am.

** Week One - Friday 6.15am.  **

 

He's back!

He sits next to Phil, as usual with a friendly smile, which Phil tries to return but as all the moisture disappears from his mouth it feels like sawdust. His lips stick together with the effort. He isn't at all sure that his smile doesn't look more like a grimace.

He is also back in the cargo pants and t- shirt, Coulson laments the loss of the suit for a while but then he notices that it is a different style of t-shirt, it is still black but this one has a little pocket over the left side of the chest and in the middle of the pocket is a tiny logo that catches the eye for all the wrong reasons. It seems to be a stylised bird of some sort but it's not the bird that holds his attention. Phil swallows. The little badge exactly lines up with the guys nipple that juts out of the fabric, disappointingly he is sure that flicking it with his finger might get him arrested but the whole thing is rudely tight and shows the guy's pectoral muscles off spectacularly. It leaves Phil with no doubt that he could bounce the rubber band ball he has sitting on his office desk at work, straight off them and back into his hand. He could even use the nipple as a target! Phil wonders and WOW it's a long time since he's has had these kinds of thoughts but if he flexed his muscles and there is probably a mathematical equation that could work it out but if he squeezed at just the right moment and in just the right way he might actually be able to catch the ball between the muscles.

Phil swallows again and looks away quickly, glancing up as his eyes turn away and shit, yes, of course, the guy is actually smirking at him, as if all his thoughts are going across his forehead like a scrolling message and he feels ashamed but turned on nevertheless. Even as his eyes are drawn towards his own rather shapeless chest with a sigh, no ball bouncing on there. His brain really wipes out as those words echo around his head and he wants to pull his brief case up onto his lap.

Mr. Arms and Cargo Pants' pocket starts ringing; he sends a slightly apologetic look in his direction as he leans over towards Phil to fish the mobile out of his opposite pants pocket. Coulson rears back as he realises that his nostrils are actually flaring taking in the guys scent and god help him he smells good.

...

_Clint pulls the phone out of his tight pocket, and moves away conscious of the fact he is almost smothering the guy next to him. He looks at the caller before smiling and answers the incessant ringing, "Hey Nat."_

...

Phil wonders Nathaniel or Natasha, Natalie? Nat sounds more female, because Nathaniel's tend to be Nate's don't they? Could it been the stunning woman from yesterday?

...

_Clint laughs at something said in his ear and replies, "You can always drink me under the table, dude. But at least I know you have got my back on the way home, nobody messes with you after a Friday night binge."_

...

Nathaniel sounds more likely then with that revelation, although Phil isn't sure whether that's a good thing or not, and then he thinks definitely not good when he says.

...

_"Of course I love you for it. You're the best." He laughs out loud again and says, "Yeah, yeah, what time do you want me to pick you up tonight?"_

...

Phil rather wishes he is anywhere but sitting here listening to this one sided conversation, deluding himself that it actually had some baring on his own life, like him and the guy next to him have some kind of future together. He is a fool and this type of childish behaviour should have long left Coulson, but let's face it, Phil's social life is pretty much lived vicariously through others anyway, he is pretty damn desperate but the dreaming has to stop, he needs to pull himself together.

They were nearly at the end of their journey and Phil has done nothing but think about the man next to him, he has read the same report in the paper time and time again because he hasn't taken in a word on the first reading. He still can't tell you what it is about even now. At this rate there wouldn't be much point buying a morning paper. He tries to block out the conversation, especially when the guy says.

...

_"I can kick you out of bed in time for that don't worry."_

...

This only proved that Phil had completely failed to block it out and completely failed to take his own advice on stringing himself along because he feels nothing but disappointment. Thankfully the train pulls into the station and Phil can flee from his own wayward thoughts.

...

_Clint watches as Mr. Suits You Sir, makes a quick beeline for the train exit, he must have a busy day or something, he's not usually pushing his way to the front._

_"What? Yeah, sorry Nat something caught my attention, so you want me to bang on your door at five? Yeah yeah, I get it, really loud, you and your power naps in the afternoons, can't see the attraction myself." He responses into the phone even as he watches his neighbour fly past the window on his way across the platform._

_He smiles as Nat deducts exactly what he is doing. He laughs, and says quietly as he starts to leave himself, "it's a mighty fine ass, Natasha. And no I don't know his name yet." He changes the subject quickly, "You know this is a really important meeting tonight, right?" He listens as she responds, weaving in and out of the people, it's a big day for their business and he doesn't want it messed up. By the end of the day they might have some financial backing to take their business to the next step, and then if it works out, he plans on celebrating all weekend, with take out pizza and hours of TV, he knows how to live!_


	6. Week two - Monday 6.15am

Week two - Monday 6.15am

It shouldn't be a blue suit day, that's always Tuesdays and Fridays, he hadn't worn it last Friday though because that was the day after Mister Gym Arms had made a comment about it and no way was he going to put up with amusement that he was bound to see in the other man's eyes by wearing it the next day. So he is breaking with tradition and wearing it today with a matching tie that has the barest hint of white polka dots. White shirt of course, black shoes shined as well as any soldiers' and his trusted brief case in black leather. You all know the contents, it is also sporting a huge amount of paperwork that Phil had done over the weekend from home saving himself the journey in on Saturday morning. The trouble with taking work home though was he tended to take more than needed, just in case there was something he couldn't find a way round and had to stop working on. Unfortunately when that didn't happen he still felt a need to finish everything in the case and his weekend would disappear without a trace of sunlight on his skin. Which is pretty much how you would sum up this last weekend, of course when anyone else asked he would find a suitable interesting answer to what he did on the two days and it won't involve paperwork.

Nobody is bothered or interested enough to realise that the physical amount of work that Phil Coulson gets through isn't a nine till five job five days a week, although he has a sneaky feeling that the big boss might be paying him a little more attention than usual but being the head of a big corporation didn't leave much time for wondering what their employees are doing with their spare time. Phil would actually prefer just to get on with his job without scrutiny because he has precious little else going on in his life and to be fair, if he is honest with himself, it's just the excuse he needs not to involve himself with the real world. Plus he gets paid a whole wad of cash for a good job done, his employers appreciate him, that holds it's own satisfaction, he is a loyal man, he has never thought of leaving for something new, loyal/boring/unadventurous take your pick. Even if he doesn't really spend the money he earns on more than decent take out and renting a nice sized apartment with some of the best and latest electrical equipment available, but it's good as far as he's concerned.

If lonely.

Phil's eyes roam around the car, it's obviously going to be a busy day around the city today, the train is busy and he actually starts to worry that someone other than his... And, really Phil, he is a far cry from his, he kicks himself at the use of the word in connection to the man in black, but he wonders if the chair next to him will be free by the time it gets to his stop. He almost but doesn't because, what the hell is going through your head Philip J Coulson, but he almost puts his brief case, which is as usual tucked neatly between his legs, on the chair beside him to save it.

...

_Wow, the train is seriously full today, Clint notices as it pulls into the station, he may have to suspend Operation Blue Suit today if he can't get his usual seat, which would be disappointing because he sort of got a smile out of the guy yesterday!_

...

It's a relief when they get to his stop and the (his) guy manages to sit next to him, Phil feels slightly proud of the fact that he manages to get a head nod in and small smile without looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights, well he thinks he does, but he can't actually see his own face obviously! The guy has a bright smile for him and even says, "Morning," and Phil feels a little weak at the knees even from his sitting position!

...

_Oh yeah, Operation Blue Suit is a go! Clint kinda wants to get pompoms out and do a cheerleading set because he got a nod and a smile this morning. Things are moving along so rapidly! Okay sarcasm doesn't suit you, Clint my boy he thinks, but gently does it, he seriously doesn't want to scare this guy off. Clint can only hope his effort will be rewarded, even if it's only to have someone to discuss the weather with on the morning train. Yeah who are you trying to kid now!_

...

The train is full with at least four more stops to go, it's unusual for this time in the morning but not unheard of, there is nobody standing at the moment but that will have to change if anyone gets on at the next stop. Of course it may be that the other cars are not so full, it happens, if people are standing close on the platforms when the car draws up, you naturally head for the nearest door.

As the train draws to a stop once more and the doors open again, Phil looks up from his newspaper, an elderly couple are making a rather unsteady way down the aisle. The old gentleman has a steadying hand on a slightly frail looking lady. Phil folds his paper and immediately stands, grabbing his case and says generously, "Please take my seat, madam."

The elderly gentleman looks surprised and grateful as he guides his wife to the now free seat and Phil smiles, nearly laughing out loud when the lady grips his forearm and softly says, "Thank you young man." It's a long time since he has been called young.

...

 _Is it possible to love somebody you don't even know the name of? Because as Clint watches 'his Suit' make his way down the car, he has a serious feeling he might already be in over his head, he sighs gently because he can almost feel Natasha glaring at him telepathically, it will probably turn out that he has been happily married for years with four kids, a couple of dogs who bring him the evening paper and his slippers as he walks in the door and a selection rabbits in the back garden. He is fucking sure he is overthinking this? He blinks and his brain recalibrates, and fuck Clint, you dumb ass, hall you hormonally compromised backside out of the chair and let the elderly ladies husband sit down next to his wife, it's a little late to look chivalrous and that spot has definitely already been taken by his, and shit, Clint just realises he actually has the blue suit on today! Hell, he is supposed to be the cool one, maybe he should wipe his mouth to check for slobber before he follows him in adoration down the car_.

...

Phil reaches end, standing up at the partition. He's a little surprised when he notices Mister Arms and Cargo Pant's pull up next to him, again, Coulson looks back to their chairs to see the couple now sitting beside each other. He looks up at the man next to him and smiles, it a nice gesture. The guy looks back and holds out his hand to Phil, "Clint," he says and Phil has very little option than to take the hand (he just about avoids the temptation to wipe his hand down his pants nervously) and replies "Phil," back at him, which gains him a broad smile from the blonde man, Phil breaks the eye contact quickly because he might just float away with those blue eyes.

He holds tightly to his brief case instead, both hands in front of him trying not to think about how firm and solid the hand had been in his own. The train pulls rather sharply to a stop at the next platform and he topples embarrassingly into the black clad man next to him, it's a school boy error he should have been holding on to something rather than fantasising about what those hands could do to him, his hand comes out to slam against the wall in a vain attempt to save himself from falling flat on his face. 'Clint' seemingly has much better balance than Phil does but with thighs like that it's no wonder, and grips hold of Phil's arm to steady him and help him stay upright. Once he is stable Phil glances at his arm where the man still has his hand wrapped around the less than well defined muscled bicep (definitely in comparison to the hands owner) the man follows the gaze and looks at his own hand in surprise, "Oh, sorry," he smiles and let's go, but smooths down the fabric with his fingers as his hand moves off, which Phil finds mind numbingly erotic, and stares down at his own arm as if it's been touched by magic.

When he looks up still rather dazed, he smiles self consciously and mumbles his thanks and places his case down between his feet and takes a firm grip of the partition, he wouldn't want that to happen again now would he?

"Busy this morning," the man next to him says good naturedly.

"Yes," Phil's brain scrabbles round to find something intelligent to say, "Yes it is," he repeats instead, smiling wanly, kicking himself internally. He will spend the rest of the day berating himself he's sure, but determines to do better next time, as the train pulls into the last station, if he gets a next time, with Clint, which makes him smile, Clint! He knows his name, which is a positive.

...

_"Oh fuck, what's happened?" Nat asks the minute Clint walks in._

_"Huh?"_

_"You have the biggest creepiest smile on your face and frankly it scaring the hell out of me."_

_"Fuck off!"_

_"Okay, fine," she throws her hands up and turns away amusement in her eyes and counting from one under her breath._

_Clint starts moving around the room, he is pretty much ready to burst but he knows Nat is waiting for it but... He just can't ... "His name is Phil and I think I might have actually stroked his suit but in my defence it was the blue one," he blurts out. And turns just as his best friend is quietly saying nine from her smirking lips._


	7. Week two - Tuesday 6.15am

Week two - Tuesday 6.15am

The train is back to normal today, Phil isn't sure what was happening in the city yesterday that had made it so busy but he much prefers to sit in less crowded conditions. He is back on schedule again as well, so it is the blue suit again today, but he has decided to be a little bold today and gone with a silk silver tie his sister had brought him as a birthday gift. He gets a lot of ties for gifts, especially when you consider the numerically small number of gifts he actually gets, the percentage of ties is high. It's ties or soap on a rope in his experience, he isn't sure if those presents have a deep meaningful message or if he is just difficult to buy for, more likely not worth spending time on finding the perfect present. So he ends up with boring and bland although from some of the odd patterns and colours on the ties the bland is questionable. Most of the ties, if not all if he is being honest, loiter at the back of his wardrobe never to be seen in the light again, this one is actually on its first outing, and it had been a good few birthdays ago, but Phil had been pleasantly surprised when he had hung it round his neck on a whim. He just needed to take care that he didn't run his hands down the fine fabric too often with his own self-consciousness, it would mark easily. He really doesn't need to think around the fact that after travelling to work every morning for the last few years in the same dull handful of ties that it is now that he decides on making a change.

He unfolds his morning paper, determined to read it today instead of getting distracted, sort of, hopefully. There is a rather interesting report on page five about the state of the economy that he is itching to read! So he starts there instead of the front page just in case he gets preoccupied with other things in a couple of stops time.

Phil has actually got through the report and backtracked to the first few pages as well before the train pulls into Clint's station. It's rather good to be able to put a name to the man after the week of Mr. Cargo Pants and Arms, but having a name makes Phil a little more invested as well, and he is all too aware that he has a tendency to become too involved on his part only to be embarrassed when things go pear shaped. It's pretty much to date, when Phil lets on he is in fact gay; 'yes, interested in men, but don't panic you can still sit next to me, I won't jump you' type of conversations that tend to still end with the guy never sitting next to him again!

His eyes of course flick up to the door as they open, and a smile quirks his lips as he watches Clint get on. He reins it in as the man makes his way to his usual seat next to him, though he can't help but return the cheerful smile on the mans face, as he sits down and says, "Morning Phil."

It catches Phil a little in surprise, he's not sure why it should after all, he has been using Clint's name admittedly in his own head, so why he is in such awe when Clint uses his, he isn't sure.

"Ah morning," he stammers out.

"Clint," his neighbour supplies.

Phil wonders if Clint thinks he is a complete moron. He clearly thinks Phil has forgotten his name. He hasn't, obviously, it's just he is having major problems with his tongue, which feels like it has swollen to twice it's usual size. But he had promised himself that he wouldn't do this last time so he pushes on and his irritation with himself makes his words come out rather harsher than he intends.

"Yes I remember."

"Oh, okay, sorry," he winces because Clint looks away like Phil had just kicked his puppy. He is cursed, he is pretty sure of it because it seems like he is damned if he does talk and damned if he doesn't. No matter what, Phil can't get it right and now he remembers why he stopped trying to find someone, and excuse the language but Phil feels he requires it this time even in his own head, but he is so fucking bad at this it's not funny. He does the easy thing, the cowardly thing, the Phil Coulson thing, instead of simply apologising for his tone and trying again with the man he retreats into his paper, yet again!

...

_Okay that could have gone better, not exactly smooth and suave Clint thinks of his own performance. He has pissed the guy off within one sentence and that might be a record, because he is no stranger to pissing people off but it usually takes a little longer. He had gone and hidden himself behind the damn paper again and Clint had kind of hoped to move things along a little. He is of course working his way up to asking him out, if he can't get a word in without upsetting him that is and if he could even see the guy through the back pages._

...

He is a good half way through before he peers to the side and catches Clint trying to read the sports page again. Seriously can't he get his own? Phil sighs and the man's eyes dart straight up to Phil’s.

He looks ridiculously sheepish, and says, “Sorry,” before looking away from the paper and Phil.

Phil itches to touch the bare arm next to him. It's not lost on him that Clint can make apologies where he can't, he is obviously the better man. But Phil can try to reach out with a friendly gesture even if he can't speak to the man without making a fool of himself, so he turns back to the first three pages and slides them away from the rest of the paper, folds it together again and turns it to the sports pages before gently offering them to Clint. He tries for a contrite smile still feeling bad about earlier but Clint stares somewhat wide eyed at him. Phil starts to wonder if he has offended him again without knowing and is about to pull the paper back when Clint says more unsure than Phil has heard from him before.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Phil actual gains his voice and feels a little more confident in the light of Clint's uncertainty. “I… I just need it back at the end because I give the paper to our receptionist at work every morning.”

...

_“Of course you do,” Clint murmurs looking down at the paper, and then looks back up panicky when he realises that he'd spoken out loud. Fuck._

_Phil simply cocks his brow at him in question._

_"It's just... Well you seem... fuck, shit sorry for swearing, ah... you just seem like a really nice guy, you know who gives up his seat and offers his paper to others," Clint winces that sounds really creepy even in his own ears, and as he looks up Phil is kind of blushing, a pink flush travelling up his neck and he looks, well seriously cute all flustered but not in a non vocal way because Clint realises the guy gets seriously nervous with the talking side of things but he is much, much better with the tokens and courtesy._

_Clint helps him out anyway, he's not sure whether it's him or Phil who is more embarrassed by that little speech so he indicates to the paper and went on, "Anyway thanks."_

...

Phil smiles rather self consciously, he's not quite sure but he is pretty sure, well not sure at all now he thinks about it but he has a sneaky suspicion that had just been 'come on' too, but probably not, right? It's all a little confusing, yet rather unlikely at the same time. He has hope and panic waging war, plus he is slightly worried that they might be fighting in his bowels!

It makes a pleasant sort of change and is all sorts of ironic that Clint is the one hiding in the paper now. Phil feels just a little bolder that he can cope with this, whatever this is?

It's not long until they are pulling into the final stop and Phil starts to fold his paper down in readiness to get off. Clint does the same and hands back his part with a gentle smile and, "Thanks, I really should buy my own but honestly I only read the sports scores," he winces, but continues, "and that sounds really shallow and jockish!"

Phil smiles back, "Not at all, I only read it to pass the time, I'm only really interested in the business pages," and he meets Clint's eyes in amusement, "and that sounds really bland and boring." He finishes folding his paper as Clint stands, proud of the fact that he has managed to get an intelligent sentence out without pausing, stammering or blushing (hopefully).

"Nah, I would definitely dip my hand into the business part next."

Phil is pretty sure he was premature on the blushing side now. He watches in no particular hurry as Clint stands and looks down at him, "Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow Phil."

...

_Operation Blue Suit is shit hot today! Clint stands and takes a couple of strides down the car. To a rocky start no doubt but he had definitely felt a thaw in the guy, he had relaxed just a little around Clint, absurdly just as he gets caught eying the paper again and then comes up with a couple of the most ridiculous sentences ever. It's him that feels a bit rattled! Not cool Clint, he thinks, and seriously, he has a need to get his swagger back so turns._

...

Phil nods his head at the goodbye and goes to lift his brief case when Clint turns back round, "Oh by the way Phil, is that a new tie?" Clint waits till he looks down at it from around his neck, and then carries on speaking, "Because it really compliments the colour of your eyes." Phil's mouth might be hanging just a little bit as Clint turns back around and makes his way off with the flow of passengers and he is completely powerless to stop his hands running down the smooth fabric once again.

...

_It sounded better in his head, and way less gay than it came out but it had the desired effect because Clint is pretty sure that Phil's eyes had dilated and his jaw definitely slackened!_


	8. Week Two - Wednesday 6.15am

Week Two - Wednesday 6.15am 

Phil had been in so late last night that he had barely crawled into his bed before sleep had dragged him under. He hadn't eaten anything past his lunch, and had lived on coffee for the rest of the day. Morning comes around far too quickly and he has the sort of frizzy feeling that comes from not being quite awake as he sits down on the train.

The amount of work flowing through the company at the moment is astonishing, and at some point it all seemingly went past his desk to be checked and manipulated to the businesses' benefit if possible. Phil is damn good at his job so 'if possible' was usually probable. He is fast too but however fast he is the demands only come even quicker. He would admit to being tired, one hundred percent this morning, he needs a holiday but that was the trouble with being so good at your job, it becomes harder and harder to find a slot to take one without something that requires your time. He knows without doubt of course that if he asked his boss for time off he would get it, but kicking his shoes off at home for a couple weeks doesn't really appeal and holidays aren't much fun spent in your own company.

He resists the urge to sigh for the thousandth time this morning but he has had very little sleep and his eyes itch and his head aches, and he would willingly return to bed if offered right now. He opens his morning paper and sighs as the words blur and run over the page where he can't quite get a focus. He reaches into his inside pocket and pulls out his glasses, there is little hope of reading without them this morning. He scratches gently at the small nick he caused while shaving this morning, he should blame the eyes again but it could equally be the fact he had slept in later than usual.

His alarm had gone off at the regular time, it woke him which wasn't customary as normally he was awake at least five minutes before the alarm, but not this morning. He had come to with a start as the alarm blared out, his hand fumbling to turn the annoying thing off, and then he had just lain there cataloguing his aches and pains. Before he knew it his eyes drifted shut and he woke again with another start and a feeling of unease which had only increased as he looked at the clock and saw that forty minutes had passed. He had jumped out of bed and quickly washed and shaved (not very successfully) forcing down a glass of water, no time for coffee or breakfast and was out the door with no time to spare to catch the 6.15 train and with no lunch in his brief case!

Everything feels off this morning, especially when Clint walks on to the train with a brown paper bag and comes to a grinding halt a few steps away from his usual seat. Phil looks up into his wide staring eyes and wistfully wonders if he has just come out with the wrong head on or something. Thankfully it doesn't take too long for Clint to recover from whatever the shocking sight is, and then Phil realises it can only be the glasses which he hasn't worn on the train before, and whips them off self consciously.

Clint sits down next to him still staring although the stare does move from Phil's eyes down to the glasses in his hands and back up again, his mouth slightly open as if he is about to say something but nothing seems to come out. Phil has the distinct feeling he may just have lost any appeal that he had with the man and can't help cursing his poor sight and itchy eyes, and late nights and no food and mornings in general and and and...

...

_Clint is early to the station this morning, miracles of miracles, so he stops by the coffee counter and orders take out. They put it in a neat little brown paper bag for him and he makes his way to the platform._

_He has a long day ahead of him, he had had to shuffle some sessions around to fit a visit in to see the bank manager, his plans for expansion seem to be going well, Pepper Potts had been very generous and introduced him to some people that were willing to put up some money. Now he just needed to get some backing from the bank to go with it._

_Ms. Potts was one of his best clients, she was also the head of one of the countries if not the worlds biggest companies. He had tried to pick up tips from her, adding little questions here and there but she had twigged him and straight out asked why he was so interested. He had been a little embarrassed to explain he is looking to expand their business, it's seriously small fry to her, not even a drop in the ocean but it matters to Clint and she had seen that, looking thoughtful for a moment and before he knew it, they spent their sessions together talking shop! She had asked him what plans he had so far and how far he was with those plans, she had even given some suggestions. She had been generally great and Clint thinks he has seriously learnt a huge amount! She even told Clint one day that the key to any business were the people that work for it, she has some of the brightest minds working for her and they come up with the most amazing ideas, but equally important are the general employees and that you must always make them feel that they are doing a good job and that they are appreciated. And never forget that the most important people you employ are the accountants and the lawyers and to pay them accordingly well. Clint's pretty sure he won't be employing a lawyer ever, hopefully, but he understands the sentiment._

_As the train pulls in Clint gets up from bench and is the first to the door. Stepping in, he makes his way down the car to his normal seat and stops dead as he sees Phil sitting with his legs crossed, newspaper on his lap, and wearing glasses. He watches as Phil looks up at him, and quickly grabs at the frames and takes them off. Holding them in his hand tightly. The image is burned into his memory though and it takes him a second to realise he is standing in the middle of the car and there are people stacking up behind him, he immediately goes and sits down._

_"I didn't know you wore glasses," Clint thinks his voice might be a tad squeaky, but in his shock he can't help it._

_I mean a guy gets on the train first thing in the morning he doesn't expect to get side swiped by a pair of glasses, it's way too early for those kinds of revelations._

...

Phil looks down at the offending article in his hand, his grip so hard it's a wonder that the frames are still intact. "I need them for reading but I'm a bit lazy about wearing them most of the time. I can get away with not putting them on till my eyes get a bit tired later in the day."

"Not today?" Clint asks.

"I'm... They are a bit sore this morning," Phil answers shrugging his shoulders.

"Ah okay," Clint nods his head.

Phil nearly squirms under the man scrutiny, and says in self depreciation, "I usually only wear them when I'm out of sight in my office."

...

_"Yeah," Clint's vocabulary seems to have headed south, tries to jokingly say, "that's probably for the best, health and safety and with all..." Clint's words trail off as a sudden vision of woman throwing their knickers at the bespectacled man as he walks past their desks flashes through his mind, his dirty, very dirty mind. He can't help thinking, wondering if he wears them to bed, whether they might fog up when... yeah, everything has seriously gone south, so much so that Clint has quite failed to spot that he hasn't actually finished talking and has left it on rather a unflattering note._

...

Phil's mouth opens and closes a couple of times, as Clint pauses, that is pretty unexpectedly harsh and damn it he'd hoped this time it would be different. His head nods vigorously because he doesn't know what else to do with it all the while his heart gets tramped on yet again by a guy, it a surprise that it hurts quite so much, after all he only got to know the guys name a couple of days ago. It's a little disconcerting that he is still smiling at him, so Phil turns his head away. He is sure he should be used to rejection by now, but it doesn't seem to get any easier.

Phil thinks he will try a different car tomorrow, maybe a different train, he could get up earlier, he would get even more done if he got in earlier, after all change is good, right?

...

_"Sorry," Clint really needs to focus, "I was saying it's just as well you're locked away in your office, cause those glasses are..._

_"Yes I get it," Phil says tensely._

_"Huh?" He looks towards Phil, who looks like he is coiled tighter than a spring. "They make you look..."_

_"Old! Yes fine."_

_"What, No!" Clint can't quite work out why the guy is looking away from him as he speaks._

_"Nerdy, I'm sure," the man comes back at Clint blandly._

_He really has to twist in his seat to hear him because he still isn't looking, therefore he doesn't see the wistful smile that graces Clint's face, "Well, a little I suppose."_

_Phil splutters a rather bitter laugh. "Yeah,thanks."_

_"In a Superman, Clark Kent type of way."_

_"What?" Phil has thankfully turned back towards him a stern look on his face._

_"Productivity must go down in the office when the women see you in those! " Clint jokes, "That's all I'm saying."_

_"Look Mr..." Phil looks at him for an answer._

_Clint automatically replies, "Barton. Clint Barton."_

_"Right, Look Mr. Barton..."_

_What the fuck, how come his Mr Barton all of a sudden? Maybe he has misread this guy, maybe he has no sense of humour at all, but FUCK IT, really only the bloody bank manager calls him Mr. Barton. Or maybe he has given the guy completely the wrong impression as he thinks back to his really infantile comments, shit! He needs to correct that!_

_"Hot."_

_"What?" Phil looks truly bewildered._

_"Hot, they look hot, sorry that's fairly rude, but, they are hot."_

_"What I... I don't understand?"_

_Clint looks at the guy, really looks and he seriously looks really really tired, and pale and rather grey round the gills. His mouth engages before his brain yet again as he says, "Fuck, are you okay? You look like crap, well you know not like.... You always look good... But you don't look so hot... You look a little ill."_

...

"Crap?" Phil knows it's a bit monotone but, maybe his brain is going a little slow, or maybe he really hasn't woken up, but he only seems to be picking up single unflattering words about himself from Barton's conversation which seems to be all over the place and Phil is actually feeling a little sick and would really like to get off.

"Yeah," Clint winces, "not crap, crap, you know ill crap. Are you feeling okay?"

"I..."

"Here," Clint reaches down to the paper bag he brought on with him. Phil watches as he pulls out two cups. "Coffee, I didn't know how you take it so I just got a plain coffee for you."

He's not at all sure this isn't all some sort of dream, maybe a nightmare but he looks down at the coffee cup being held out to him. He must look a little dazed because Barton's hand comes up and grips his arm. "You don't look so good, are you sure you are okay?"

"Ah, yes, I'm fine." He takes the cup as Clint pushes it towards him, "Thanks," he says rather unsurely.

"You like coffee right?"

"Yes, yes thank you," he takes the top off and takes a sip, "Good," he sighs, it really is.

...

_"Excellent."_

_Clint takes a sip from his own cup and watches Phil take small sips, holding the cup with two hands close to his face as if he is trying to warm his whole body with the cup. He finishes it fast though and puts the top back on passing the empty cup back to Clint with a gentle if hesitant smile, "Thank you."_

_"You're welcome." Clint smiles back, pleased that he has done something obviously good. As he puts the empties into the bag._

_He watches as Phil looks down at his morning paper, and peels the sports pages off and pushes them towards Clint. Clint takes them with a smile. He opens them up to read but notices that Phil is frowning a little holding the paper in one hand a little closer than normal. He looks down at Phil's other hand where the glasses are gripped still rather tightly. Clint reaches out and taps the hand with the glasses in, and watches as Phil looks down at it._

_"Put your glasses on Phil, they are hot, and you're squinting."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many Thanks for all the lovely feedback its much appreciated!


	9. Week two - Thursday 6.15am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS ROCK, Thank you for all the encouragement!

**Week two - Thursday 6.15am**

 

Phil takes small sips from the water bottle he's brought with him from home. It's a comfort more than anything, something to hold. He worries at the label with his nail. His paper sits on his lap as the train moves through the platforms unread. The rocking and visual disturbance as it goes in and out of the stations and in and out of tunnels from light to dark to light doing nothing for the queasiness that rolls through his whole aching body.

He has managed to sort his lunch out today, not that he much fancies it. Yesterday he had completely ran out of time to take anything with him. Today he had been up early, too early, he had in fact gotten very little sleep all night. He isn't sure what's wrong with him but he feels terribly lethargic, his head is pounding and his stomach is pretty much swimming. Who is he kidding, it screams man flu. He's heard its epidemic among the male of the species. He should probably have taken the day off.Strike that - he should definitely have taken the day off.

Yesterday had been atrocious; he had done nothing but down painkillers at work, eaten nothing but a plain dry biscuit his secretary had brought in with a serious look on her face as she told him to go home. He'd ignored her. He was her boss and it was his initiative to do so. Besides, he had work to do, more slowly and painfully than normal but sitting at home feeling sorry for himself on his own wasn't any more appealing.

He had gotten home around nine and made himself a cup of tea and huddled on his couch with a blanket, barely watching the TV until the early hours although watching was an exaggeration, his eyes and ears half closed till the noise was a mere drone to his hearing and an occasional flash in his vision.

Around one he had managed to pull his aching body, still encased in his suit and tie, up from the couch and had headed for the bathroom. The jacket and tie had landed on the floor and water had soaked into the collar of his white shirt as he had splashed the cool liquid onto his too hot face. He had managed to relieve himself without any embarrassing incident and stepped out of the pants leaving them crumpled on the floor in front of the lavatory. He had literary fallen into bed still with his damp shirt on and pulled the duvet up over his body, falling asleep immediately. Unfortunately it hadn't lasted and he had woken coughing, grasping for breath as the coughing fit took hold. He had in the end dragged himself up and made a beeline for the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water, he really wanted something hot but the thought of standing waiting for a boil was too much and he had settled for the water and plonked himself back down on the couch, depending on a huge mound of pillows to keep himself upright. Thankfully no more coughing fits had materialised but what had been left of the night had been a tossup between roasting hot or shivering cold and it left Phil washed out.

It was going to be a long day!

...

_As Clint steps onto the train for the second morning running he stops dead in his tracks, not for the same reason though, yesterday he would admit to a rather shallow double take of desire when he had spotted Phil in his glasses, this morning it's a double take of a different kind because a) Clint didn't honestly expect to see Phil and therefore hadn't brought coffee, and b) he looked absolutely terrible._

_"What the fuck man... sorry," he says, because he always feels the need to apologise when he swears in front of the well dressed man. "But what the hell are you doing on here, you look like shit... sorry," he winces._

_"I should move, you don't want to catch anything," Phil croakily replies. He blows his nose for what looks like the hundredth time if the rather red tinge is anything to go by._

_"What, no it's fine but hell Phil, you should have had a day off." Clint looks worryingly at his new friend._

_"Yes, I'm beginning to feel that."_

_"Why don't you get off at the next stop and head home."_

_"No, it's okay, I'm on my way now, these cold things are always worse in the morning and evening, I'll probably be fine soon."_

_Clint watches as Phil tries for a reassuring smile and doesn't believe a moment of it. He looks like crap and really who does he think he is fooling?_

_It's about then that Phil breaks out in a hacking cough, he hides his mouth like a well brought up boy but Clint still can't help wincing in sympathy. He gives in to temptation and rubs Phil's back in small circles, even feeling the heat coming up through the numerous layers of clothing._

_"No way man, come on, please, you need to go home and sleep that off," Clint implores. "Please, Phil, I'll worry about you all day if you don't."_

...

Phil feels about as rubbish as humanly possible, though a little bit of warmth floods him, and it isn't the hand that kneads across his shoulders, he wishes he felt better to enjoy that, but with the thought that Clint would worry about him. It's been a long time since anyone's been worried about him. A very long time, not since Jasper, and he really doesn't want to dwell on that while he is feeling so bad.

"Okay, okay," Phil concedes it's probably for the best to go back home and put his feet up for the day and head back in tomorrow to get some of the rush jobs done before the weekend.

Clint actually looks relieved by the side of him and smiles, and his hand that is still warm from the friction of Phil's suit fabric, comes down on Phil's thigh and grasps the flesh under his slacks, and god, Phil really really wishes he felt better to enjoy that!

"So do you have everything you need at home?"

"Like what?" Phil enquires.

"Uh, I... Painkillers, drinks that kind of thing," Clint laughs self consciously, "I'm sure you have a ton of people that you can ring if you need anything anyway," he adds "Sorry," on at the end of that because he made it sound as if the guy was a hermit or something.

"Yes, of course," Phil replies but truthfully he really doesn't, but no way in hell is he letting on what a weird, socially ostracised old man he really is. Not in front of the only guy that has paid him the slightest interest in a decade.

No he will just go back home on his own and curl up on the couch and feel sorry for himself. When the phone rings and Phil picks it up hoping that it's someone enquiring on how he feels, he tries not to be disappointed that it just a work colleague with a query about one of the accounts, thoroughly pissed off and telling him so on the phone because he is having to pick up Coulson's slack.

...

_Clint really wants to give Phil his mobile number and ask him to text him that he is okay, but that seems a little too deep for where they are, and he will be fine. It's a cold, flu at the worst, which is bad but he is a fit looking guy so it shouldn't hit too hard, sure he looks terrible but in a couple of days he'll be back to normal. He doesn't offer, though actually he really wants Phil's number back and he's sceptical that he would willingly give it up at the moment, so he pretty much chickens out._

_He keeps an eye on Phil as he gets off at the next stop. He quickly makes his way off, presumably to switch platforms to catch the train home. It makes Clint wonder about him, his walk is very differently from the man he portrays on the train, a suave and smart man, yes, but painfully quiet and shy also. The one that walks across the platform now, yes his shoulders are undoubtedly a little more slumped today but he has a strong earthy gait to his movement. It's very masculine, it makes no excuses, there is no hint of trying to make himself taller (let's face it neither Phil or himself were blessed with much of a growing gene) it also doesn't try to blend into a crowd. It screams of 'what you see is what you get'. And that is different from the man that sits beside him every day, the man that hides behind his paper. Clint can't help speculating, wondering which is the real Phil, and what has happened in his life to create two such juxtapositions because he can see the true nature of the man that walks with away from him with a heady confidence that makes Clint blush and tingle inside, as much as he likes the shy man that sits beside him the idea of the raw power he sees in that walk, breaking out, my god that is intoxicating._


	10. Week two - Friday 6.15

** Week two - Friday 6.15 **

 

Phil definitely feels better, not great but better.

Clint had been right to suggest he went back home yesterday. He had slept through most of the day and apart from a phone call about work he had been left completely alone, which in this case had been great. He'd heated himself up some soup in the evening, and had thoroughly enjoyed it, it was only a tin of something he had found in the back of the cupboard but after a couple of days of feeling nauseous whenever he thought of food it was a rare pleasure. He had had a decent enough nights sleep too.

So he felt much more refreshed this morning and although he hadn't really considered not coming in today, because Fridays were a nightmare of rush jobs that needed completion before the weekend, it was a relief that he felt a little more human than yesterday. Plus, he is well aware that he will probably have to come in tomorrow for a couple of hours to catch up or next week will be a hellish backlog.

The paper in his hands is even getting a read this morning, he is already on page three, conscious of the fact he wants to hand over the back three pages and therefore the front three to Clint when he gets on, his eyes have lost that itchy hot feeling and his head is definitely clearer so reading is fine. He'd swallowed a couple of tablets with his breakfast and the fact that he had eaten breakfast was a first in a few days. It all pointed to recovery.

He can't help but turn and look out the window as the train pulls into Clint's station, his eyes searching out for the man, and smiling when he see him. He watches as he climbs on, offering help to a lady that has a suitcase by her side, helping her lift the large case onto the train and allowing the woman to go ahead of him as she pulls the heavy looking case behind her down the aisle. He smiles up at Phil as he sees him sitting in his usual seat.

...

_The first words out of Clint's mouth are a rush of questions for Phil, "You look a little better, how do you feel? Shouldn't you have taken another day?" He feels a little embarrassed as he notices Phil opening and closing his mouth trying to get a word in._

_"I'm feeling better, thank you, and for yesterday, you were right. A day at home was exactly what I needed."_

_"You looked pretty grim yesterday. Definitely more colour today," Clint says lamely, thinking he sounds like someone's mother, not his own obviously!_

_"Um, thanks," Phil looks back embarrassed and Clint swears his colour improves even more._

_"Good, good. Sorry no coffee, wasn't sure you would be here this morning and two cups for me would not bode well for my clients," he giggled, enjoying the small quirky smile he got back and felt a little bold, so continues, "Ah, I don't know if you're busy tomorrow," he tries to sound casual, fails miserably of course, " but I wondered whether we could, maybe, met up for a coffee somewhere in the city?"_

...

The world has just come tumbling down around him, his ears are ringing, his heart is beating too fast. Clint observes him with such wide innocent eyes and Phil can do nothing but look and look, he knows what a rabbit feels like trapped in headlights now. He panics, it shouldn't be a surprise, not like the surprise that Clint has just sprung on him, internal panic sits on his shoulder like an eternal devil, he stammers out, "I have work tomorrow." It's disappointment that Phil reads coming off Clint in waves, he can't help but be disappointed in himself as well.

"Oh, okay, that's a shame, another time maybe?" Phil can't help but see the hopeful look to the question. He nods his head without much enthusiasm looking down at his paper. "Sure," he says, it's bad, his bad, and Phil can't quite believe himself turning down the man next to him, who winces at his tone, but he isn't thinking about Clint, he is thinking about himself, because once again he has let himself down.

"Right." Phil feels Clint sag in his chair next to him and feels like an utter shit, which is becoming the norm whenever he's around Clint, he simply resorts to default coward syndrome.

Phil has experience, mostly bad, pretty much terrible, possibly it could be described as disastrous, so it's bound to end badly, so best stop before he even starts. Most of his dates have been struggles for conversation because actually he has little in his life but work and nobody wants to hear about that on a night out, and he really only likes going to places he actually knows, it's pretty pathetic being intimidated by new places and as he looks across at Clint he has the feeling he would feel safe whatever the situation he is in with this man, only makes him curse himself over again for not taking a chance. He has an opportunity to break out of this cycle of insecurity that he has built up over the last decade. If things go badly and Clint realises what a... nervous, no not really he is completely competent at work, socially inept for sure, perhaps personally apprehensive was a better description, probably unlovable in his own opinion. He is sure to drive a partner insane with all the foibles he has picked up since his last relationship. Could he bend? Phil suspected it came down to whether he wanted to. But sitting on this train this morning he had been given just a slight opportunity to push at those high walls he had built so strongly over the years.

Phil had lost his mother a couple of years ago, she had know about his orientation of course, he had made no secret of it since he had been at college, but his mother had never spoken of it to him, he had never known her true feelings towards it. She hadn't made a fuss when she had found out but neither had she really embraced it but she had loved her son nevertheless and he knew she had worried for him. In fact he imagined if she were alive today she would be delighted if he even managed to take a dog home for companionship. His father had died when Phil was but a boy, and she had lived the rest of her life without a partner, still in love with the one she had lost. She had confided in him when she lay dying in her hospital bed that she wished she had gone out and found at least a companion to tell her joys and sorrows to, because those joys and sorrows were meaningless unless they were shared. Yes, she would be pushing him as hard as she could right now.

He feebly offers the sports page, a relief washes over him when Clint takes it, but his heart sinks at the doleful thanks that come back.

It seems wonder of wonders that Clint actually wants to get to know him! Phil has a surge of feeling that he hasn't felt in such a long time, somebody actually wants him, no strings attached, it's not a work colleague trying to work their way up the ladder faster, it's not a neighbour that feels obliged to invite him to the buildings social BBQ, he had only attended one of those, sitting in the corner and smiled every time one of the many couples came near, there hadn't been one single person there, he had felt like a goldfish swimming round a bag at the fair.

But hell, he turned Clint down and now they both seem to be miserable. Neither speaks throughout whole trip and Phil feels as uncomfortable as he did the first time Clint had sat next to him. But this time there is no one to blame but himself.

The train starts to slow for the last stop, and Clint hands the paper back to him, a small smile of regret still marring his face.

Phil takes a chance, for once in his detached, empty life, he takes a chance.

"Can I change my mind?"

"What?" Clint asks.

"Tomorrow? I do have to work but I could cut it down to a couple of hours." He waits for an answer but his nerves win out, "If you still want to, I mean it's fine if you don't..."

...

_Oh my god! Funky chickens galore! He has a compulsion to get up and do the David Brent dance. He won't of course, Nat would seriously take him down if he did that!_

_"No, I definitely still want to," Clint smiles hope sparkling his eyes once more, "Um, will you be on the same train in the morning?"_

_Phil pulls a face as if he hates the fact that yes, Clint is completely right and he will be on the same train, as usual, but nods._

_"How about we meet up on the train, go and have breakfast somewhere, you can then go off to work and we could maybe," Clint queried, wondering if he is pushing his luck or overwhelming Phil, but fuck he is actually excited about this, "Meet up again for lunch? If you have the time, of course."_

_Clint watches as Phil looks surprised, the little frown he has been carrying round since Clint first asked him out dissipates a little, and Phil actually smiles as if he approves before confessing softly, "I'd like that, thank you."_

_"It's a date then," and both of them gulp at the words, but Phil nods his head again shyly._

_The train comes to a complete stop and the other passengers disembark before either men get up, and then they do so together._

_Before stepping away Clint turns and reassures, "So I'll meet you on the train same time tomorrow?"_

_Phil smiles as well, "Same time."_

_"I'm looking forward to it." Watching as Phil grabs his briefcase, and they both make their way off, going their separate ways. It's not till Clint gets to Natashas' and looks at his phone to check for an cancellations that he thinks it would have been polite of him to have given Phil his number, after all the guy hadn't been in the best of health in the last few days he might not fancy it in the morning, but he is sure to give it to him tomorrow, as long as he doesn't scare the guy off with his hysteric enthusiasm!_


	11. Week three - Monday 5.15am.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to post this and run for the hills!!

**Week three - Monday 5.15am.**

 

Phil rubs his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He has a feeling that catching this early train might just kill him in the long run. He had got up at a ridiculous time, it was still dark for heavens sake and not that that twilight morning is breaking dark, the deep what the hell are you doing up dark. The necessity is there though, no way is he catching the 6.15, in case he meets Clint, man of his dreams, bringer of his nightmares. Not that it should be him hiding of course, but it is, it's easier in the long run.

This morning he had shaved off the stubble from his binge fest of self pity and depression. His idea of a lost weekend involved a bottle of scotch (no glass required), two days worth of Chinese take out brought on the way home on Saturday and finished off on the Sunday, sticky and thick and barely warmed through, reality TV ( it made his life seem so simple in comparison) and the highpoint of making paper planes and pirate hats of the Sunday paper, without even reading it for extra dissent. Said paper items still littered his floor and Phil had decided to rebel by simply kicking them across the floor in the dark this morning!

Perhaps Saturday's disappointment might be the kick in the head he needed to live a little, not that making paper planes and the one origami flower is letting you hair down, but for Phil sitting around in a pair of sweat pants and a tee shirt really was. He hadn't even cleaned his teeth on Sunday, so sit on a stick and swivel, because he was fucked beyond fucked to give a rats arse what people thought of him anymore, they could all go and fuck themselves!

Maybe some of that alcohol was still circulating through his blood. Probably quite a lot, no chance of him taking over the train controls when the driver came down with food poisoning then. He'd just have to be the drunk idiot that screamed and got slapped in the face as the train hurtled towards certain doom, some handsome stranger would step up to the plate and save them all, if he looked a bit like Clint Barton, Phil wasn't going to acknowledge it.

No, he is going to wipe Clint fucking Barton from his brain for ever and ever. His revolt is going well because he hasn't used the work fuck that much in his entire life even in his own head!

He isn't going to dwell on Saturday, he isn't, he really isn't, which is why he is sitting a hour earlier than usual on a near empty train trying to avoid the man that had stood him up.

He had sat on the train on Saturday genuinely excited, nervous of course, he was going out on a date! A breakfast and lunch date maybe, not an evening one, but actually that kind of suited him, he felt a little safer with that idea not so pressured. He had stood for way too long in front of his wardrobe the night before and still not come up with any better ideas than his blue suit, he did at least know that Clint liked it, he was a modern man though and was going with the only light blue shirt he possessed. Breaking out of his mould by going ties less was as casual at it goes for him, and he thought he could push the boat out and take the jacket off if it was warm enough tomorrow, sling it over his shoulder like a photo shoot and probably take someone's eye out on the cuff! Horror of horror he could even roll up a sleeve or two, he actually rather liked his forearms, they where a better part of his anatomy.

As the train had pulled into Clint's station, Phil couldn't resist twisted round to watch the man get on, but he didn't see him, he stood up and looked along the platform, no Clint. His eyes searched out amongst the few strangers that stood uninterested on the platform, back tracking to those that had got on perhaps he had missed him but no matter how much he looked his eyes couldn't conjure up the younger man. There was no Clint at the next station or the next or the next, no Clint waiting for him when he got off at the final stop. No Clint, when he sat waiting for the next train in case he'd missed the first, or the next or the next. No Clint. He'd sat there all morning hoping it was a simple mistake, but no, Clint Barton was a no show, Phil Coulson had been rejected, the picture of a loser sitting in a train station all alone. He had gone home, not even bothering with work, stopped for take out and vegetated the weekend away with his finest blend. He may or may not have tried to find Barton in the phone book, what he would have done with the number if he had found it he wasn't sure but he it was a good way through the bottle until he remembered the man had only just moved. So when he safely knew that there was no chance of finding his number, he let rip with a vast amount of obscene profanity that he would have said to the man given the chance.

...

_"When are you leaving for work?"_

_"I'm taking the day off," Clint replies, while he hunts for his door keys in his bedroom._

_"You don't need to do that, I'm fine."_

_"Sure I'm still taking the day off I case your head falls off."_

_"Don't be a drama queen."_

_He huffed out a grunt, "I'm going out to get some milk, is there anything you need?" He asked the woman propped up in his bed._

_"To go home and for you to go to work!"_

_"You heard what the doctor said you need to be supervised for a few days."_

_"I'm not fucking four, next you'll be making sure my mittens are on a piece of elastic threaded through my coat!"_

_"Mittens?" He stopped his search to look at her in question, "Do you even have a pair of mittens? And stop being so cranky, it not my fault."_

_"Fuck you, Barton. And I'm fine."_

_"You have a concussion and broken ankle Nat, that's not fine."_

_"You should go to work, the nurses outfit doesn't suit you, beside don't you have to go and sit beside Ph..i..l? She elongates the word to irritate him, he's sure. She is fast enough to catch the wince. "I'm sorry about your date," she sounds contrite._

_Clint shrugs his shoulders, he's epically sorry too._

_"You did phone him, right?"_

_"Of course," he says a little too quickly and ducks his head._

_"Clint?"_

_"I haven't got his number." He tells her honestly._

_"You're an idiot"_

_"I'm not the one that got hit by a car."_

_Clint thinks back to the terrifying phone call that had started it all from the hospital, some efficient sounding woman had asked if he was Mr. Clint Barton, when he'd said yes with a building apprehension she gone onto tell him that one Natasha Romanoff had been involved in a road traffic accident. Dumbass that he was and pretty much in shock with worry the only thing he thought of saying was that she doesn't own a car and that's when a patient voice down the line had gently said, 'no Mr Barton, you friend has been hit by a car.'_

_At that moment all thoughts of what he should wear, breakfast dates and kind blue eyes flew out the window and he had grabbed his house keys, and he muttered into the phone that he would be there as soon as he could. It's a phone call that will leave him with nightmares for some time to come that's for sure._

_Nat snaps her fingers to draw his attention back and remove the haunted look on his face, "No you didn't, you're the one that held my hand in the hospital when you should have been holding someone else's hand. I'm actually quite fond of you Clint Barton, you know that right?"_

_"Yes, I know that Natasha, now is there anything you need?"He asked once again._

_"To go home now!"_

_"Yeah, yeah, milk and cookies for the baby girl then." He walks away and out the door before she can grab something to throw._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm running! In my defence just remember this is chapter 11 and there is only 14 and the last one is pretty much an epilogue, you can see it will get resolved, actually on Saturday!


	12. Week three - Wednesday 5.15am.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most humble thanks for all the wonderful comments, it truly makes the time spent on this worth very moment!

** Week three - Wednesday 5.15am. **

 

The early morning is no better today, it's only his second morning, but he feels he should be getting into some sort of a routine by now. Yesterday had been a no go anyway because he hadn't even made it home Monday night. He had gotten a fitful few hours of sleep at his desk overnight. Some major problems had cropped up at work, the whole company was on tender hooks and in wide-eyed panic that things on the other continents were going to blow up and the ramifications would hit the Americas like a sledge hammer. Phil had volunteered to run the late shift so that the others could get back to families and partners. He had taken phone calls late into the night and early morning from all around the world. The situation had pulled back from the brink solved by about three in the morning, but by then there was no way Phil was heading home, so he had simply laid his head down on the desk until his secretary had poked him in the side with a takeout breakfast that she had apparently gone and gotten when she had seen him dribbling onto his blotting pad.

He had been pulled into his bosses office early in the afternoon, soundly congratulated on a job very well done and then told in no uncertain terms to go home and stay there until the following morning. It was then that he was asked why was he getting in earlier than ever in the mornings. He was not sure if he should be flattered that it had been noticed or not, but he wished it hadn't been. He had lied and said it was due to train timetable changes. His boss had smiled and told him not to work too hard!

He had gone home, leaving the office at an unprecedented three in the afternoon.

This morning, if anything he feels more tired, but he is sure it will pass over, but maybe the rubbish weekend and nights at his desk were catching up with him.

Thankfully there had been no sign of Clint on the train home yesterday, Phil had been a little worried he would bump into him, he wasn't sure what time the man left off work, he hadn't come across him on the way home apart from the time he had come on with the redhead. It isn't that he is hiding, it's just that he is still too raw to face up to it, and for all Phil knew, the man might just laugh in his face when he saw him again. He hadn't gotten those sorts of vibes off of Clint, he thought he was nice but then nice people don't tend to leave you sitting in a train station all morning waiting for a date that never turns up... it's becoming abundantly apparent that Phil isn't a very good a judge of character.

Even when he had been with Jasper! Unfortunately, he would always be left with that nagging doubt forever. His lover hadn't been ready to come out about his new relationship especially with a man which had been a new development for him. He could understand that, Phil was his first male partner; add to that he had only split from his wife about a year before and there were children involved, all valid points, Phil had still felt less than a partner at times though. When they were together in private Jasper would worship Phil like no man ever had before him or after, but outside he had to play a role he was never comfortable with. He had done so, for his lover and he hadn't even really resented it until Jasper had died, like so many others on that day needlessly.

Then the full weight of the closed closet hit, nobody knew about his relationship. Nobody! He had found out about the funeral through the grapevine. He was merely another nameless male in a suit at the service, he would never forget the moment Jasper's mother had asked if he was a work colleague of her sons. He'd nodded. His heart breaking for a secret he couldn't share in the face of Jasper's weeping children and his grieving family, he found himself written out of Jasper Sitwell's history books.

A dirty little secret.

He had, in fact, been left with nothing but an old tee shirt that Jasper had taken off one day when they had got caught out in the rain. It was clean and ironed sitting in the back of his wardrobe with no trace of its owner remaining.

...

_Clint can't help the feeling of apprehension again as he waits at the station, he had done all this worrying already, the previous morning! Yesterday had been the first time that he felt able to go to work. Despite Nat's words, she'd needed the help last morning before just to get up, it was after all only a few days since she had been quite literally hit by a car. Although she had protested against help for the last couple of days, she'd been woozy and felt sick from merely sitting up. It was getting better though and as she progressed, Natasha had started moving around his flat, (crutches were a wonderful thing) and yesterday morning he had felt no qualms about going to work, (okay that wasn't true and he had rung half a dozen times to check on her, irritating the hell out of her until she had threatened to wrap the telephone cord round his neck the moment he set foot back in his apartment. Even if telephones didn't have cords anymore she would probably come up with something equally nefarious.)_

_Clint looks at his watch yet again, five minutes for the train to arrive and a very hard conversation. Well, he hopes so, because it didn't happen yesterday. He only hopes that Phil will forgive him when he explains, tries to explain, because Clint knows what rejection is like, and from the way Phil behaves he is damn sure he does too._

_The train thankfully pulls into the station before Clint decides to do a runner instead; he climbs on board and makes his way over to his usual spot._

_Shit, shit, shit, he looks at the empty seat beside his own, it's the second day running, and although Clint hadn't worried overly yesterday when Phil wasn't here, today it seems really ominous. All sorts of over reactive things run through his head, he chastises himself at his thoughts, after all the whole world is made up of people that have been stood up, but Clint had sat next to Phil as he had agonised over simply saying yes to the invitation._

_Clint needs to rethink, he is pretty sure it's going to make his head hurt! But he needs to think back for any clues about who Phil actually is, he can't just leave it like this. He finds himself ashamed at the realisation that he knows absolutely nothing about the guy apart from his first name, he doesn't even have a surname, no idea where he lives or even the job he does apart from that he works long hours, takes paperwork home, has a receptionist that reads the paper he buys every morning and a nice ass. Fuck, how shallow do you look now, Clint Barton._

_What would Phil do, he wonders, the obvious answer is... he is thinking, thinking, thinking. Shit the obvious answer isn't coming. A different car! That's it!_

_Clint waits till the train is slowing and jumps up ready to get off quickly and wait on the platform for the other passengers to get off. He waits, hopeful, but it's not to be. He waits and waits and no Phil. He even waits a little longer than necessary just to be sure, but Phil's not on the train._

_He is going to have to go to Plan B, that is as soon as he comes up with a plan B!_


	13. Week three - Thursday 5.15am.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the one that you have all been waiting for, I think. Double the joy, in that it is longer than the other chapters too!

**Week three - Thursday 5.15am.**

Phil's paper is already half read. He feels a little more alert today, perhaps he is finally getting acclimatised to the early starts. As the train pulls into the station that Clint would later use, he can't help but look up at the meagre numbers waiting to get on. There are, in fact, three people waiting, a smartly dressed woman with an enormous bag dangling from her arm. A young lad who doesn't look much more than sixteen, seventeen, obviously a student with his hands full of textbooks that he can't fit into an already over full backpack he has precariously slung over his shoulder. The last is a casually dressed man in black cargo pants and black shirt. Phil swallows he can almost feel the bile rising because he knows the man standing as tensely as Phil's body has seemingly gone, waiting, but looking directly at Phil with eyes that burn a hole right to his heart.

...

_Clint sighs in relief because he can see him, staring wide-eyed back at him. He looks tired and shocked, a greyness to his skin that Clint wonders is solely down to him._

_Clint just has an overwhelming feeling of relief that he has found him. Sure changing the time you get on a train to avoid someone isn't brain science, but it had taken Natasha to suggest trying an earlier one. It was a simple suggestion and way beyond him it would seem, but she after listening, or maybe half listening to him rant and rave about trying to find him, she had casually said, he'll catch an earlier train. When he had stared at her for a moment and asked why, she had just carried on flicking through her magazine and said blandly, "He's a man of routine Clint, no way would he go on a later train and as much as you think you are so shit hot that he is going to do away with himself because you stood him up, it seems a little far fetched don't you think?" She stared at him over the top of the magazine. He opened and closed his mouth a few times and then conceded, "Yeah okay."_

_He waits impatiently for the train to come to a stop and immediately steps up into the car, rushing to get on first. He sits down with a sigh of such relief he notices Phil glance up at him before averting his eyes again quickly._

_His words come out in a rush of contrition, "I... I'm sorry, so sorry, thank god I found you, I have so much explaining to do."_

_"It's fine, don't worry about it," Phil mumbles, not looking at him at all._

_"It's not fine, please just let me explain what happened, okay?" Clint tries to catch Phil's eyes, but they dart away from him._

_He might not be looking but shrugs his shoulders noncommittally._

_So Clint explains, the whole thing with Natasha and the hospital and the way he had no way of contacting him to let him know. Phil seems to listen, glancing a few times in Clint's direction at certain points in the tale, but says nothing until he enquires, "How is she now?"_

_Clint smiles and replies, "Going insane on crutches, she wants to go home and I don't think I can keep her away much longer, my spare room isn't the height of luxury."_

...

Phil nods his head and lips curl in his best attempt at a smile. It's obvious that Clint let's slip deliberately that she is staying in the spare room and not his. It makes no difference though.

He is looking at him, seemingly waiting for something more from Phil, but he finds himself not really knowing what to say. He understands, of course he does, it's all too elaborate for a lie. But it doesn't oddly stop the hurt of it all. The memory lingers and the battle defences rise.

There is an uneasy silence before Clint clears his throat, and says nervously, "So, I was kind of hoping that maybe we could try..."

"I'm sorry I don't think that's a good idea."

Clint's eyes go wide, like he didn't expect that, "Oh." His whole body seems to deflate in front of Phil, "I see."

"It's... not, you haven't," the train starts slowing for the next station, he can feel his heart rate increasing and he already feels a little breathless, "It's me... I'm not... I'm sorry, I have to get off at this stop," he says darting up from his seat.

Clint looks around wildly, "What! No, you never get off here," he glances about as if the answers are in the air around him, "Phil?"

"I have a meeting near here," Phil lies and begins to briskly walk away.

"Phil, no, please. Don't do this, please, Phil?" Clint pleads from his seat but Phil isn't going to stop, he practically leaps off the train and all but runs off the platform, checking wildly that Clint hasn't followed him, unbelievable relieved he hasn't.

He rounds the corner and leans up against the wall taking great heaving breaths. The people all around him stare but take a wide path around him. He's thankful again, he really doesn't want anyone checking to see if his having a heart attack. He's not, he is having a mini panic attack all of his own making. He wants nothing more than to slide down the wall and sit on the chewing gum and fag butt covered floor. How do cigarette butts still get down here he wonders? Perhaps they are like those tiny ball bearing shaped foam fillings you get to plump up bean bags, some will always escape their destination, make a bid for freedom and for months and years after you will pull out a piece of furniture and there will be a small cluster of them hiding from the vacuum cleaner. Oddly his internal butt conversation calms him a little, he feels able to straighten up.

He has another problem now though because he is stuck at the wrong train station and it's too far to walk and he hates buses so his only alternative if he doesn't want a huge cab bill, is to actually wait for the next train in an hours' time!

...

_When Phil left the train Clint's first thought is to call his best friend, he waits for her to answer, it's not nice to be impatient, he knows she has to get there on crutches, "Clint, so help me if you keep ringing today I might trash your apartment," she answers snippily._

_"Nat," he can't help the miserable tone that he knows comes out._

_"What's happened?"_

_"He was on the train," he can imagine Natasha face at the convoluted way he is telling the tale, "I told him everything and he seemed to accept it all, even asked how you were, and then when I asked him if we could try again, he said no."_

_“Oh!” That clearly surprises her._

_He starts to rush through the story, "I didn't even get a chance to try and change his mind, he just got off at the next available stop and told me he had a meeting."_

_"I see, where are you now?" She says with concern, which was more than normal when he is having one of his emotional breakdowns, not that he has many, well not anymore._

_"Trains just coming to a stop and then I'm off to your flat to pick up the bits you want before heading to my first session," he told her._

_"Okay, look we can talk when you get in tonight," he can hear as she tries to sound as sympathetic as she can, but she isn't really good at this type of thing!_

_"Alright," he still sounds miserable, he knows, but at least he can share it a bit, "I'll see you later."_

_"Good. Oh Clint, just so we are clear I'm not answering this phone to you again today so don't even think of checking up on me again, okay?"_

_He laughs, "Yep, got that loud and clear, you ungrateful wench."_

_"I'm grateful, sweet cheeks, otherwise I would have already wrapped you in bubble wrap and sent you DHL to the furthest point in the world."_

_"Bye Nat!" He chuckles._

...

It's only an hour, but it feels like much, much longer, especially when you sit running and rerunning a conversation through your head. There isn't even coffee available at this grotty station, he's only glad he managed to stop his ass hitting the ground earlier, he doesn't want to take anything away with him on his clothes from this station. He's been sitting for the entire time, thinking about whether he has been a fool or not. On one hand, he may have just given up his last chance to be truly happy, okay that is probably an exaggeration on so many counts because Clint was only offering a coffee, but Phil had a feeling, hope at least that it could have been more. Which is why he is struggling to work out why he had turned him down this time. Maybe it was all a little too real, he had lived with the idea that he would end his days alone, and presented with a situation that it might not be so, he wasn't willing to risk himself.

The train thankfully pulls up to the platform, the quicker he can get to work and get his brain occupied the better. So he pulls himself up from the seat he is on and moves across to the train, it's nearly full apart from a seat that is free but is currently occupied by a couple of crutches, Phil looks at the person they belong to and swallows. He looks around desperately hoping a free seat will materialise in front of his eyes like magic but it's not to be, so the options are, standing, which has never seemed so attractive in his life, or sitting next to the woman Phil knows to be Natasha. He has barely had a conversation with her, but she is moving the crutches and speaking his name in a tone that should have him running for the hills. He really wants to gulp but if he swallows again, his concern is that he might eat his own Adam's apple! He sits down.

"Good morning," he says as congenially as he can muster.

"I'm not having such a good one so far," she replies.

"Oh." It's not a question, he doesn't really want her to elaborate on why because he is pretty sure it's his fault, he tries for distraction tactics, "How's the ankle?"

"Broken," she gives him a long stare, he is a little impressed with himself when he doesn't fidget. "So tell me, what has you running so scared, Phil?" She says as if it's an everyday question.

Now he fidgets, "I... actually that is none of your business," he retorts.

"No, it's not, and believe me I have no desire to know, but you see you made a big mistake."

"Are you threatening me?" He objects.

She snorts, "My god, you are dense, I'm not threatening you, the mistake you made was passing Clint over, tell me do you have men throwing themselves at you all the time."

Phil looks to the train floor but doesn't answer.

"Look, I'm pretty sure this is all a crappy idea, because you seem to be everything that Clint doesn't need, but he thinks you are the right one..."

"Did he send you?" Phil interrupts.

"No, he didn't send me, you foolish man, just listen for once," she says angrily.

Phil opens his mouth but closes it again at her look. S

he nods at the action, "I met Clint when he was just a teenager, he was about as fucked up as you can imagine," she held up her hand as Phil opens his mouth again, "I'm not telling you the details, that's up to him, if you let him," she raises her eyebrows in question, "But it took him a long time to get over that. He comes across brash and full of himself, I know, but don't let that fool you. He is every bit as insecure as you are."

"I'm not..." Phil starts to bluster.

"No, course you're not, you just make a habit of running away the moment anyone gets too close. You need to decide once and for all just what you want. Clint might not be the greatest catch in the world, and two muppets like you and him together is a disaster waiting to happen if you ask me but he doesn't, and I think that you don't either, be honest with yourself for once in your tiny micromanaged little life."

"Just who the hell do you think you are," Phil hisses as loudly as he dares when travelling in the middle of a full train.

"Well, I'm either a new friend or someone you probably won't see again," she says completely calmly in the face of her angry neighbour.

"You have some front lady."

"I'm just looking out for my friend, and don't call me lady! He's a good guy, if you give him a chance he won't let you down. How about you, can he trust you?"

Phil eye's dart back and forth as he looks at her, searching.

She sighs and volunteers, "Look Clint can be a child at times, which is why he is so set on the idea of being in love with you when he barely knows you."

Phil lets the words sink in, they are more comforting than they should be, and a lot more reassuring than the woman next to him who stares at him, her eyes could pierce a tin can.

She nods, as if he has passed her test and comments, "Interesting."

"What is?"

"Most men would have a panic attack at the word love, but you just went gooey eyed."

"Geez, please tell me you're not a doctor because your bedside manner stinks."

She throws her head back and laughs.

"So," she purrs, "Where do you work?"

He frowns because obviously the interrogation of Phil's intentions seems to be over and now she is moving on to cross-examine his personal life, she has her answers even if he still seems to be in the dark, but bizarrely he tells her, and Natasha laughs out loud, Phil wonders if the laughter is scarier than the anger because honestly he doesn't know what so funny about who he is employed by.

...

_"Morning Clint, I won't be a minute," Pepper says as he walks in for his session with her._

_"No problem take your time." He must still sound a little off because she lifts her head in concern at the words._

_"Everything okay," she asks as she finishes up signing a stack of papers._

_"Yeah sure," it's not professional after all to complain about one's love life in front of the clients._

_"Really," she speculates as she comes round the table, "Because that sounds more like someone shot my cat, tone of voice," she dramatically raises her fingers up to her lips, "Oh no, someone didn't shoot your pussy did they?"_

_He grinned, "No Pepper, I don't own a cat?"_

_"Oh good, so what, girlfriend trouble?"_

_He snorts at that, "More like, boyfriend trouble actually."_

_"Ohhhh," she sounds delighted and her forehead wrinkles in surprise. She grabs his arm and marches him over to the couch, "Tell Auntie Pepper all about it then." She pushes him down as he starts to protest about their session. "All in good time! I'm Tony Stark's partner, Clint, there is nothing that you can tell that will surprise me."_

_So he does, all the silly little details, he doesn't mention Phil’s name, it seems too much like going behind the man's back even if he still actually only knows his first name! He feels completely stupid as he relays the tale and how he has tiptoed around so much in the last few weeks. He tries to explain how introverted Phil is, Peppers not phased by a quiet nature though because she says, "Best workers for miles, are the restrained demure types, if it wasn't for pesky American law, Clint, they would work 24/7." She grins mischievously._

_"You're an evil woman," Clint laughs._

_Pepper reaches out and pats his leg, "Sounds to me, that this mystery man of yours just needs a little time, maybe back off a little give him some space but don't give up."_

_Clint nods his head and gets up when she says, "Right, Mr Barton, let's work out some of that frustration shall we?"_

_"Let's, Miss Potts."_

_It's some time later that they are both dripping in sweat, the woman is super fit and the workout is a challenge to Clint too, he takes his towel at the end of the session, and passes one out to Pepper, "Good job today, Pepper, really stepping up that cardio."_

_She smiles at the compliment, “Oh, I need to get the diary because I have a trip to the UK coming up and I will be away. Let me just get it from reception."_

_Clint starts to pack up the equipment as she heads out her door. It only takes a few seconds and she is back shutting the door with a groan._

_"Problem?" He asks._

_"Hmm, probably, I just saw the most important man in Stark industries walk in and that's not a good sign this early in the morning."_

_Clint's eyes widen, "Mr Stark is out there?"_

_Pepper laughs, "No I said important Clint. You remember I told you that the people that run businesses are the lawyers and accountants?"_

_Clint nods, "Ah!"_

_"The man out there, nearly keeps this place running single handed!" She sends him a cheeky grin, "Introverted, you know the type." She flicks open the diary she is carrying, "So dates, I'm away from the 14th probably till the 24th."_

_Clint pulls out his phone and makes note of the dates. "Okay, that's fine."_

_"Great!"_

_Pepper opens the door just as Clint turns away to grab his remaining equipment and slings his bag over his shoulder, he has to smile as she says to her employee through the doorway, "Coulson I don't like this, why are you here so early in the morning? Please don't tell me that Tony has already upset the British Ambassadors wife and we are into litigation."_

_"Actually, Miss Potts, I'm not here to see you," the voice replies._

...

Phil watches through the entrance of his bosses office, as Clint swings around at his voice.

Pepper looks from one to the other, "Oh?" She looks puzzled.

"Phil?" Clint says in disbelief.

"Clint," he smiles, aware that it's probably a nervous one, but he can't quite believe that he has found the courage to do this.

"OH!" Pepper says as she realises just what is going on.

"I didn't know you worked here." Clint splutters. "How did you know..."

"Natasha," Phil interrupts and sees the frown that crosses Clint's face, "She paid me a visit this morning, put me straight on a few things," Phil shrugs his shoulders hoping Clint accept the explanation.

Pepper clears her throat as Phil and Clint only have eyes for each other. Phil turns to her, "Sorry Miss Potts. Ah, will you come down to my office," he asks Clint.

"Of course he will, he has been waxing lyrical about you all morning," Pepper pipes up surprising Phil, who cocks his eyebrows up at Clint, who gives an embarrassed smirk back.

"Okay, sure." Clint agrees, it's his turn to try the shoulder shrug.

"Oh no, you," Pepper points her finger directly at Phil, "Have about a million days due, so you take the rest of the day off and sort this out."

Phil opens his mouth to protest, but Clint gets in first, "That would be good."

"Don't you have work?" Phil questions unsurely.

"Well, I can put off... It's not a problem a few phone calls, please."

Phil swallows but nods, "Okay."

"Good, good," Pepper claps her hands together, "And Phil," she whispers in his ear so Clint can't hear, as he turns to head away from the open doorway, "I want details tomorrow and make them good, okay!"

"Yes, Miss Potts," he sighs, it seems his private life is no longer going to be private.

...

_Clint slings the bag over his shoulder again with a smile, it's all a pretty amazing turn of events. He watches Phil as he turns and Pepper whispers something in his ear, Phil sighs and answers, Clint can only guess at what she says. In a five minute stretch, Clint has managed to get a day with Phil, find out his surname, Coulson, and find out where he works and quite how high up the chain he really is, Clint has a moment of doubt, after all he isn't much more than a gym instructor but then Phil has come to him. It's the first time that the quiet man has taken any initiative. He isn't going to sully that with his own insecurities._

_He heads to the door, arms full of equipment. Phil stops and turns around, taking a few strides over to him and strips him of some of the stuff in his arms._

_"Thanks," Clint murmurs._

_"We could leave this in my office if you like?"_

_"Maybe we could swing by my place," he can't quite call it an office, "And I can leave it there, ready for tomorrow?"_

_"Of course, we have all day." Phil walks out the office with a smile and nod in Pepper's direction._

_Clint walks towards the door, and Pepper stops him with a hand on his arm, "Have fun," she smiles and then moves in to whisper in his ear too, he wonders if it's going to be a piece of advice but she says instead, "If his productivity goes down this company is screwed, I hope you realise that." He pulls back, he really doesn't know what to make of it, so nods and heads out for his day, with Phil Coulson!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow will round things off with a epilogue.


	14. Epilogue-Week seven  - Monday 6.15am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you for all the feedback, its simply wonderful to know it has been enjoyed. I will definitely being doing another AU, it's been a blast!
> 
> I have to thank my Beta once again for the fantastic job she did on this. You make it all possible Veriscence!

**Epilogue**

Week seven  - Monday 6.15am 

Phil's careful not to spill the overly filled coffee in his hand as he sits down in his usual seat, he rests the cup on the empty seat next to him and opens his briefcase to retrieve his morning paper before shutting it again and squaring it away between his legs, (the briefcase not the paper) and picks up the cup again. He takes a couple of sips from the cup, but it was still too hot to get more than a flash of bitterness on his tongue, it still feels good though, waking his mouth up to the day ahead.

He opens his paper and takes a glance at the headlines, his eyes catch a running figure desperate not to miss the train, it's a sight that you tend to see a lot when you travel every day, but it never stops anyone from seeing the humour in it, Phil included. He prides himself on punctuality, he would never leave it that late to get to the train. They were foolish, more concerned with queuing up for a coffee and whatever else was in the bag he is carrying, than catching the train, surprise always written on their faces when the train doesn't wait for them. The man in question has his cup balancing in one hand and the paper bag in the other, miraculously none of the coffee is spilling as he just manages to pull himself up onto the train before the doors hiss shut. Phil looks at the figure as he nonchalantly walks down the aisle not even breathing hard, Phil tuts to himself, he can't help but think it's not fair. He notices these days, the aches and pains in his body, he tries not to think about. The fact, that he gets winded going up a flight of stairs quickly is irritating enough but, to think it is because of his age is...

The runner sits down with a cocky grin, Phil resists the urge to roll his eyes at the man, and says instead, "You know you are going to miss the train one day."

"Nah I had plenty of time," he says cheekily back. "Besides," he comments, hold up a paper bag like a trophy, "It was worth it."

Phil rolls his eyes, "Maybe for you, you can work it off during the day, but if you keep buying me pastries in the morning, you'll have to roll me out of bed," Phil said dryly.

Clint snorts his coffee as he takes a sip, and starts coughing, so Phil gives him a thump on the back, "That serves you right for having the dirty mind of a teenager," he murmurs as the thump turns into a rub.

Clint gets his coughing under control, his voice is more gruff than usual when he says in hushed tones, "You shouldn't be allowed to put the words, morning, bed and roll in one sentence when I'm taking a mouthful of coffee."

"Did you ever get over being hormonal, Clint? You are such a child."

...

_Clint knows and plays up to it, to the full._

_"And you," Clint casually slings his arm around Phil's shoulder, "My friend, are a sex god!" Clint loves manipulating that little blush that creeps up Phil neckline, especially in public._

_"Are you coming back to your flat tonight?" Phil asks him casually changing the topic._

_"Eager to get rid of me? Weekend too much for you?" He pouts theatrically, "Are you bored with my body already?"_

_Phil laughs freely and says deadpan, "No, I haven't quite finished with it yet."_

_"Oh, thank heavens, because your bed is so much more comfortable than mine, and your TV system is to die for."_

_Phil snorts, "Well it good to know where I stand in the order of things, please tell me I'm close third or at least not behind the coffee machine?"_

_"Oh! I forgot about that sexy caffeine maker." He clamps his hand down on the shoulder he has his arm slung over. "But," he sighs, "I suppose I should go and water the plants."_

_"Do you own any plants?"_

_"Actually, damn, no I don't. I suppose I'll have to make do with a whole nights sleep though," Clint leans right into Phil's ear and whispers, "You, beast, you!"_

_Score number two, as there goes another blush._

_Clint is insanely happy. Phil and himself have been together as a couple for just over fourweeks, and in those weeks the pair have come so far._

...

Phil is blissfully content too. Clint has his arm around him and he loves how demonstrative the younger man is in the public. Clint is far more playful than anyone that Phil has previously dated. No one would probably believe it because Phil is seen by most as a rather bland boring man, but he loves Clint's sense of humour and gives everything he has back.

"I'll miss you tonight," Phil says. Clint had stayed with him all weekend, and it had felt so right having him in his place. Clint offers him the open paper bag and Phil dips his hand in and pulls out a large pastry. "Geez, it's huge!"

Clint ticks his head from one side to the next like a metronome, and cheekily says between mouthfuls of his own cake, "I get that a _lot_!"

Phil can't help grinning at him, but rolls his eyes as Clint takes the huge bite from his breakfast and then licks his fingers provocatively.

"You know his is a public place, right? That is way beyond PDA."

"Can't help it, Boss, you just make me so horny." Phil's heart flutters a bit at the words, even if he is, in fact, immensely embarrassed. It might as well continue though so Phil reaches down to his briefcase, picks it up, opening it swiftly and pulling out his own paper bag. He puts it on his leg before closing the lid and replacing it between his legs.

...

_Clint watches Phil as he toys with the edges of the paper bag he has pulled out of his briefcase. He has a pensive look on his face as he stares down at his package (no pun intended)._

_"Phil?"_

_"I...ah..." Phil pushes the bag into Clint hand._

_Watching Phil's face blush up again, Clint slowly opens the bag, "Oh!"_

_"You don't have to... I was just doing mine and..."_

_"Thank you," he lays his hand on Phil's and squeezes until he looks up at him. "You made me lunch," he states with a shit eating grin on his face._

_"It's not a big deal, Clint, it's only a cheese sandwich."_

_"It is a big deal, nobody has ever made me a packed lunch before."_

...

"Nobody?" Clint hadn't talked about his childhood much in the short time they have known each other, apart from making it clear it was pretty bad.

He watches as Clint looks down at the sandwich in his hand, "No, you're the first." Phil's lips turn up understandingly and confesses, "Hell, I wish I'd put a bag of chips or a bar of chocolate in too now.

Clint laughs and quirks his eyebrow up in question, "Maybe next time."

"Oh, definitely next time, maybe I'll even push the boat out and get ham!"

"Nice! I love a bit of meat!"

Phil sighs, then ignores it the best he can, and holds out his finger in warning at Clint and jests, "Don't go expecting treats every time though."

Clint laughs and mockingly says, "Oh no sir I won't," he lets Clint pull him across and plants a kiss on his cheek.

He finds himself saying without any preplanning, because it's as out of character as Phil has probably ever been, and its wrong on so many levels not least that they have only been together a very short while, but it feels right and the words bubble out half nervously and half excitedly, "You could just move in." He looks up and is surprised not to see disbelief on Clint's face.

...

_"I could." Clint says back, as they look into each other's eyes before smiling together and linking hands._

 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's all folks, see ya around soon!

**Author's Note:**

> More tomorrow, let me know what you think?


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